Kidnapped
by JBS-Forever
Summary: It started out one day with an exaggerated point, but then...Ponyboy never came home...and no one can find him. How will things change once Ponyboy is found? Will anyone be the same?
1. Chapter 1

**All right, I'm too excited to get this out, so here's ****the opening chapter! You can watch the preview for this by going to my profile and copying and pasting the link. Or go to youtube and type in "Kidnapped (the outsiders)"  
><strong>

**It might be a little bit before the next chapter comes out because I have** **to work on my other story.**

**But let me know what you think! **

**Also, this is going to be a kind of sad/dark story, so if you're looking for something happy and fun, you might wanna check out something else.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

.

.

.

To tell you the truth, I think I knew somewhere inside me that it was going to happen. Maybe not _this_ in particular, but definitely something. Not to sound melancholy, but that's the way my life works. Every action has an outcome that strives to teach me some lesson that I really don't care to learn anymore. I don't ask for bad things to happen, they just do; as if some kind of curse was put on me when I was younger, deeming everything that _could _go wrong _to_ go wrong at some point or another.

"My my my," A voice droned slowly. "If it ain't Ponyboy Curtis."

And that's where my story begins. I rolled my eyes as I tried to ignore the Soc that was picking on me that day. Bob's friends. They had started up again the same time as school had, determined to make my life a living hell; and that's not an exaggeration. I was the only living candidate they could blame for their friend's death. They still wouldn't let it go.

The Soc shoved me forward into my locker and I let out a hiss as something hit me in the eye.

"Hey, back off," A voice warned. It was Steve. As the Soc released me, I discovered Two-Bit was standing there too.

"Mind your own business, grease," The Soc sneered. I saw Steve slide his blade from his pocket, just enough to show the Soc he was serious.

"Kid _is _my business. Now. Back. Off," Steve spoke through clenched teeth. The Soc swore at him under his breath and made some threat we couldn't hear, but he knew enough to know when he needed to back off, and he left quickly.

I turned back to my locker to grab my bag and rubbed my eye painfully.

"You ok?" Two-Bit asked. I nodded, but didn't turn towards him. I was pretty sure my eye was watering and probably beginning to change colors. Steve grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back, letting out an annoyed sound.

"Damn it," He muttered. He started fishing in his pocket for something.

"What?" I asked, poking gently around my eye. Steve yanked my hand away and stuck a handkerchief in it.

"Your eye's bleeding," Two-Bit said. I pushed the cloth against it and pulled it away to see if they were kidding. They weren't.

"Aw, c'mon," I moaned, leaning back against the locker next to me.

"We gotta get those Socs to back the hell off or Darry'll skin us," Steve said to Two-Bit, who nodded in agreement.

"But how? We ain't around Ponyboy for most the day."

"How often are they picking on you, kid?" Steve asked me. I shrugged and Steve rolled his eyes. I hadn't even told them they were picking on me again. Steve and Two-Bit knew they had been during the first week of school, but I had lied and told them the Socs backed off my case after that. The truth was that they'd only gotten worse.

"I can see he's gonna be helpful," He said. "C'mon, let's go."

I got my backpack and shut my locker, following behind. Not only had the Socs been picking on me, but they had made me jumpy and on edge. I kept one hand on the strap of Two-Bit's bag, just so I couldn't be pulled behind by some Soc who hadn't gotten to me yet. I wasn't sure if Two-Bit ever noticed, but I didn't think he did.

I was quiet on the ride home. My eye had stopped bleeding and my head was starting to pound. I laid my forehead against the window in the backseat of Steve's car and listened to him and Two-Bit bicker until we made it home. The house was empty and quiet, so naturally they invited themselves in and turned on everything that made sound. I popped a few aspirin and sat on the couch with Two-Bit watching Mickey Mouse until my eyes became heavy and I let myself fall into sleep, hoping it would take the pain away.

"Hey guys."

Darry's voice was what woke me later. My head was still hurting and my eye felt more swollen. Sometime after I'd fallen asleep, Two-Bit must have let me stretch out. He was sitting under my legs when Darry came in.

"Hey, Dar."

"Hey, Muscles."

"Why's he sleeping?" Darry asked. "It's almost dinner time."

"I think his head hurt," Two-Bit said.

"Yeah, probably cause of his eye," Steve retorted.

"His what?" I could hear a tone of annoyance in Darry's words. I was facing towards the inside of the couch, so Darry couldn't see me. I kept my eyes closed and pretended to be asleep. I didn't want to deal with it yet.

"Man, some Soc was picking on him today," Steve said. "Shoved him into his locker and cut up his eye."

"Hey hey hey!" The door slammed shut and Sodapop's cheerful voice sang through the house, oblivious to what was going on. "What's for dinner, Dar?"

"Sodapop, did you know about this?" Darry asked.

"About what?"

"Ponyboy getting picked on by some Soc today at school."

"I ain't been home all day," Sodapop said, his happiness turning to concern. "He's getting picked on again?"

"Apparently," Two-Bit said. "We thought they stopped after the first week of school."

"Great," Darry muttered. "How bad is he hurt?"

"He's hurt?" The concern was thick now in Sodapop's voice and I could feel him kneel down in front of me.

"Probably gonna have a nice shiner," Steve said. "We got to him before the Soc could do anything worse. Still, he got a pretty good cut under his eye."

"Pone?" Soda asked gently.

"What?" I muttered.

"How's your eye?"

"It's great, thanks," I said, earning a chuckle. I opened my eyes and sat up, blinking away the sleepiness.

"Dang, Ponyboy," Two-Bit whistled. "Nice eye."

"Too bad it ain't done swelling yet," Steve said. I shot him a glare.

"Lay off," Darry called from the kitchen. "Ponyboy, c'mere."

I flipped my feet onto the ground and was about to stand up when Sodapop stopped me. He leaned down and pulled on my shoelaces, freeing them of the bow that had tied them together. I glared at Two-Bit, who was cracking up, and headed towards the kitchen, getting prepared for the lecture Darry was going to give me. When I got into the room, he spun around and grabbed my chin, turned my face to the side, and looked at the damage. Instead of yelling at me, he opened the freezer and pulled out a steak, handing it to me to put over my eye.

"When'd you start getting picked on again?" He asked.

I looked down at the floor. "It never stopped," I muttered.

"It never…" Darry let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Cause it don't matter. I can handle it myself."

"Ponyboy, I don't care if you think you can handle it. Those Socs have no right to be picking on you." Darry grabbed some plates out of the cupboard, slamming it closed. "I think we need to set another rumble."

"No!" I said sharply. Darry looked over at me with raised eyebrows. "Look, I don't want a fight, ok? Besides, if we won, it'd only give them more reason to rag on me."

"Well what am I supposed to do then, Ponyboy?" Darry asked me. I sighed and rubbed my aching forehead.

"Just let me handle it."

"Handle it how? By coming home with bruises? People are gonna start thinking I hit you and then you're gonna get taken away from us."

"Nobody's gonna think that," I mumbled, but I knew he was probably right.

We let the fight diminish over the weekend for our own sakes. We were able to hang out and have fun, despite my swollen eye. But when school started up again on Monday, Steve and Two-Bit watched me like a hawk. For days, I argued with everyone about being left alone. I tried to convince them I could handle things and didn't need to be taken care of. The more the Socs picked on me, the grumpier I got with everyone else. To make an exaggerated point, I refused a ride home from Steve one day after school. I took the path behind the track, which leads through a wooded area, though the trail looped around in ways not necessary to get home. I wish I knew then what would happen, because I would've taken the ride with Steve.

On my way through the path, a Soc started following me. Not long after, he was joined by another, then another. I knew they were going to jump me. I could feel my heart rate rising in fear, so in a spur of the moment decision, I dropped my backpack and bolted off through the woods. They weren't far behind. In a blur, I maneuvered through the trees, glancing back every few feet to see where they were. And then it happened, because like I told you, things like this always have to happen to people like me. My foot slid under a root of a tree, but my body was still moving forward before I could realize it. I fell onto my hands and heard a snap before white hot pain radiated through my right leg.

I cried out and pushed myself back, trying to get my foot out. Right as I managed to slide the last part of my shoe from underneath the root, a Soc was there, shoving me to my back. I opened my mouth to scream, but his hand was quickly over it, muffling my voice. He waved a finger in my face.

"Don't you dare," He said. A smile played across his face. "I think we're gonna have a little fun, greaser."

His friends finally caught up and he started talking to them. I couldn't understand what he was saying because my heart was pounding so loud in my ears. I was pretty sure adrenaline was keeping me from feeling the full extent of pain in my leg. I attempted to break free and run, but they held me down. The Soc pointed to something off in the distance and his friends laughed.

"Let's do it!" One of them shouted. They all agreed and suddenly they picked me up. I struggled against them, but I was no match. They took me to an old building. I'd seen it maybe once before, when Darry and I had gone looking for our dog as kids. It was a warehouse that had been shut down a long time ago. As the Socs carried me inside, I briefly noticed it was filled with old objects that had never been removed. It was cluttered, as though the company had thrown everything they didn't want anymore into it.

The Socs set me on the ground and two of them held my arms while the other rummaged through stuff. He found something that looked like a black cord and came back. I was sitting up against the wall, which had some kind of frame attached to it. The Soc grabbed my right hand and started to tie it to the frame so it was up by my head. I panicked and fought as hard as I could but then he had my left hand tied and I was stuck.

"It's time for a little revenge, Ponyboy Curtis," The Soc said. I shuddered and swallowed hard. The cord was cutting into my skin and my leg was starting to throb. They laughed and I closed my eyes, expecting to be hit, only to open them moments later to find that the Socs…were gone.

That was four days ago.

They came back the next day, of course. I knew leaving me there would be too easy on my part. And nothing easy ever happens in my life. I struggled all night trying to get my hands free, but nothing worked. The frame was bolted to the wall and the cord was so tight that I couldn't pull it with my teeth. I screamed for help, but I might as well have been in the middle of nowhere. Nothing made a difference.

They hit me, kicked me, cursed at me, spit on me, and did everything else a Soc would do to a poor pathetic Greaser who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I cried. I cried and begged them to stop. Begged them to let me go. But they laughed in my face. I knew, somewhere deep inside, that this was worse than revenge. Those Socs blamed me for Bob's death. And now, they were going to kill me, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**All right, I had to get this chapter out cause you guys were so awesome with reviews! Don't worry, I've got quite a bit written for my other story, too, so I'm not forgetting about it. **

**Thanks for the positive feedback! This is gonna be weird. I forgot when I started writing this that you guys aren't an English class heavily examining it, so there are reasons for things that you all will probably skip over since we're not analyzing the story. But, if you'd like to switch into English class mode and try and notice subtle things as the story unfolds, then go right ahead! I'd rather enjoy it :)**

**Thanks again! And enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

**.  
><strong>

_Four days earlier…._

When I got home, Steve and Two-Bit were waiting at the house for Ponyboy to show up. They told me he'd been angry and stomped off after school, refusing a ride from Steve. He had disappeared from sight before either of them could see where he went, so they headed to the house to wait. I was agitated. Ponyboy knew better than to go off alone, no matter how mad he was.

When Sodapop got home later, Ponyboy still wasn't there. Two-Bit was concerned. Steve tried to convince everyone that Ponyboy had been upset and probably just needed some time to cool off. That didn't stop me from worrying though.

The hours went by, and still, no word from Ponyboy. Everyone was growing concerned. I started calling around to see if anyone had seen or heard from him while Sodapop, Steve, and Two-Bit took off on foot to look. They returned back at different times, but all the information was the same: Ponyboy was nowhere to be found.

When four o clock in the morning rolled around, I had to give up and call the police. I would rather have Ponyboy in a boy's home than hurt somewhere without us knowing it. They could think I was a bad guardian all they wanted, but I would do anything to protect my little brothers. The police told me I needed to wait 24 hours to report a missing person, but they'd keep an eye out for him.

He didn't show up the next day. Sodapop and I skipped work. We hadn't slept at all that night. Two-Bit went to school to see if he had shown up, but he wasn't there. No one could figure out where he would have gone.

"You think he's ok?" Sodapop asked with worry. I hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"I dunno, Sodapop."

"Ponyboy doesn't do this," Two-Bit said. "He doesn't just disappear."

"Could this have something to do with those Socs?" Sodapop wondered. "Maybe he ran away cause he was getting picked on or something."

"He wouldn't run away again," I grumbled, knowing what happened after the last time. "Especially alone."

Sodapop leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "I don't wanna go through this again, Darry."

"I know, little buddy," I sighed. "Me either."

X*x*X

Right on the 24 hour dot, I called the police and reported Ponyboy as missing. It was one of the most devastating things I'd ever done. Hearing that a 14 year old Greaser was missing didn't seem to worry them too much though. They said they'd start looking and asking around. An officer came over to get a picture of Ponyboy and get some other questions answered before he left.

Sodapop cried. He worried himself sick, spending hours out and about trying to find our little brother. I was constantly on the phone, calling anyone and everyone to see if they had any news. I tried to comfort Sodapop, but I myself was in the process of breaking. I'd almost lost Ponyboy once before, not that long ago. I didn't want to lose him again.

On the third day, Two-Bit started a search team. He, Steve, and a gang of other greasers went out to look for the missing boy. Sodapop joined them for a few hours before he returned home, hoping maybe I had heard something. But I hadn't. And it was ripping my heart to pieces.

Sodapop cried everyday that Ponyboy was gone. He slept in Ponyboy's bed, though I knew he wasn't really sleeping. Mostly he was just laying there silently, tears rolling down his face as he hugged Ponyboy's pillow.

I slept in the recliner so I wouldn't miss when the phone rang. At night, when I was alone, I'd talk to the ceiling, asking Ponyboy to come home. To please be OK. I asked my mom and dad to watch over him and bring him back to us.

Whenever the phone would ring, I'd hastily answer it with, "Ponyboy?", but the person on the other end was never him. I knew that I was playing fate. No one was going to bring Ponyboy to me. I'd have to find him.

X*x*X

"It's been four days!" I heard Darry yell. It woke me with a start. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my eyes. I didn't remember falling asleep, but I knew I must have. The clock on the nightstand next to me said it was ten, and the light outside told me it was daytime. I sat up and rubbed my eyes which were still slightly swollen from the crying I had done before I fell asleep. I climbed out of bed and went to see who Darry was yelling at.

"You said you'd help us find him. Do you have anything?"

I found him on the phone in the living room. I sat down on the couch and laid my head on the arm of it, waiting until he was done.

"No," Darry grumbled. "And no one has." He glanced at me for a second while the person talked. "Yeah. Ok. Thanks." He hung up the phone and let out a sigh.

"Who was that?" I asked, yawning.

"The police. I was trying to see if they found anything."

"Mhmm." I rubbed my eyes again. "Sounded like you were trying to scream at them."

Darry shrugged. "To each his own."

I smiled, because Ponyboy had gotten in the habit of saying that. He had to explain to me what it meant one day cause I had no idea what he was saying. "I suppose."

"Have you eaten anything, little buddy?" Darry asked. I shook my head. "I'll make us some sandwiches."

"Ok," I said. Darry got up and headed to the kitchen. We hadn't been eating very regularly since Ponyboy had disappeared. It wasn't good for us, but we couldn't help it. We were too upset to eat. Our little brother was missing. How could we eat when we didn't know if he was hurt, or lost, or even alive? An image of Ponyboy wandering through the woods when he was younger flashed into my mind. That had been the last time he was actually lost. He was young then, pretty little. I didn't remember exactly how old he was, but he'd only been lost for a few hours before someone found him.

Right then, the phone started ringing, tearing me away from my thoughts. I dove for it quickly, catching it on the second ring.

"Hello?"

The person on the other line talked quickly. Darry hurried from the kitchen as I stuck a hand over the mouth of the receiver and spoke to him. "Someone found Ponyboy's backpack."

And finally, we had something. Or at least, we thought we did.

X*x*X*x*X

_Ponyboy's POV_

I'm going to die. I come to terms with that fact after the fifth day. Or is it the sixth day? Time has started to muddle itself in my head. I can't tell you what day of the week it is even if my life depended on it. Not that it does, of course.

In the quiet of the night, I wondered what Darry and Sodapop were going through. I found myself imagining them searching for me, going to all the places I might have disappeared to. Now I doubt they are looking for me at all. Even if they are, they won't find me. Maybe they have forgotten about me. Maybe it's been so long that they have moved on.

I feel like hell. Not only is my foot throbbing, but I'm going through the worse nicotine withdrawal I've ever gone through. Not that I've ever gone through it before, but it's hell. My head is pounding and I feel nauseas. My chest is so tight that it's hard to breathe. I crave for a cigarette so badly that I want to cry. I never planned on quitting, but now I was being forced to. I feel restless and anxious and there's nothing I can do about. I can hardly move anyway. There's no way to release my tension. I'm going to die.

The Socs come everyday after school. I can only tell that because of the light that shines through the windows above me. Sometimes they bring me food and untie one of my hands so I can eat. I'm irritated and humiliated beyond belief. I'm too mad to be upset and scared. I don't voice it though. I know it will work against my favor. Everything I do seems to work that way. I'm forced to bite my tongue and hold my feelings inside while they continue to torment me.

When they leave, I'm left to suffer the absolute nothingness. Every breath feels like an hour. Every hour feels like forever. I long for the days where sitting in class felt never ending. It was nothing compared to this. At least there were people there. I wasn't alone. There were voices there, it was never silent. I could move more than I could now. I could stretch out, lay my arm on my desk, draw on my notebook while the teacher droned on and on. I never thought that kind of boredom would be something I took for granted.

The next night, while the Socs are drunk and teasing me, they forget to tie my hand back up. After they leave, I- for some unfathomable reason- desperately try to free myself. The knot is too tight though. I look around for anything that could help me, but nothing is within reach. I struggle all night trying to break the frame I'm bound to, and regret not carrying a blade around with me. The wrist that is still tied is now throbbing, taking away at least a little of the pain from my leg. I can hear Darry in my mind, telling me to use my head. Telling me I should have carried a blade with me. _Blah. Blah. Blah._ I scream in frustration and when the sun finally comes up, I start yelling for help again. I don't know why. I'm just desperate.

To my dismay, one of the Socs comes early and hears me screaming. He roughly ties my hand back up, shoves a handkerchief in my mouth, and hits me in the face. Hard. After a few dizzying punches, I regret trying to get free in the first place. The cord is tight around my wrist and I start losing circulation in my fingers.

Once he's gone, I tilt my head back and look up at the ceiling. I ache severely. I wish Sodapop was here because he'd know how to make me feel better. Sodapop could make anyone feel better. I wish Darry was here to yell at me for leaving on my own. He'd chide me while fixing up my bruises and injuries. He only yells cause he cares. I wish he was here to care now.

But he's not. I'm all alone, left to look up at the windows that prove there is life somewhere outside of here. The sun is getting higher, and soon all the Socs will be back to make me wish I'd never been born.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow! Thanks for all the reviews guys! **

**I'm in a little bit of tricky place with my other story, so here's another chapter of this one to get you by until I figure things out. **

**I know a lot of monologue can be boring. I hope it's not too bad and maybe keeps your attention.**

**Remember, this story is kind of darker. Which means bad things happen. and Socs suck. :)**

**Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

**.  
><strong>

_Ponyboy's POV_

I'm tired, but I don't sleep. I can't sleep. Every time I start to drift, a Soc is there, waking me up. My wrists hurt, my head hurts, my leg hurts, and I just want to cry. But I don't. Crying wouldn't make the Socs stop. It would only make them humiliate me more.

One day, a few of the Socs are exploring around in the warehouse when they find an old mattress and frame. They start musing over the idea of something and all I can do is watch them until they finally decide to put their new plan into action. They move me from the wall and to the bed, claiming they are giving me a random act of kindness to show how "nice" they are. Instead, they tie my hands to either side of the frame and do the same with my legs, so that I form an "x". They spare no pity on my broken leg and I bite the inside of my lip so hard to stop myself from crying out that I taste blood for the next few minutes.

They drink for a while, teasing and taunting me. Their words echo in my head. _No one wants you, that's why they haven't gone looking for you…It was your fault your greaser friend died…We're gonna make you sorry you were ever born, grease…_ I shut my eyes to tune them out, but it isn't long before that makes them frustrated. One of them hits me in the face. Before I have time to react, another slams his foot down into my stomach. Then someone is grabbing my broken leg and twisting it.

And I scream.

Like nothing I have ever screamed before. The sound shatters off the walls around us. My vision goes blurry. My hearing switches to a loud high pitch ringing noise as I pull desperately on my bindings, wanting nothing more than for him to stop.

The sound of someone laughing comes through into my head and they stuff a handkerchief in my mouth to muffle the cries, but I'm still screaming. My body is convulsing in pain and every part of me is throbbing. I can't pull my wrists or ankles even inches away from where they are tied because they are so tight.

Finally the Soc lets go of my leg and I stop fighting. Both my vision and sound return back to me at the same time. My breath is coming out hard as sobs, and weakness overshadows me, forcing me to remain still as the pain radiates through my leg. The Socs have an unfair advantage.

"You guys are idiots!" Another Soc yells as he comes through the door and smacks his friend across the head. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

"Just having a little fun," The friend says defensively. The Soc eyes me for a moment and then looks back to his friend.

"Well knock it off. I could hear him screaming from blocks away."

"We can take care of that," Says the Soc behind me. I don't bother to look at him. I stare up at the ceiling, but I can feel the eyes of the angry Soc on me again as my breathing starts to calm down to a shuddering.

"No," He says. "This ain't a torture fest. Use it if he gets mouthy, but not so you can beat him to death without anyone hearing."

"Oh fine, Jay," The friend grumbles. "Ain't like we were gonna kill him or nothing."

"From the way he was screaming, it sounds like you _were_." I look down to see Jay pinch the bridge of his nose and he lets out a sigh. "That's enough for tonight. Go home. I'll bring him some food and then come meet you guys."

"Right on!" The Soc behind me leaps up. "C'mon boys, let's go to my house."

I listen to them whoop and cheer on their way out the door. After they have gone, I close my eyes. I wish I was tied back to the wall again, because it was less painful than this. The pulling on my hands left blood running down my wrists from the rope. It burns against my skin.

I feel someone moving my pant leg and my eyes shoot open. Jay is down by my foot, touching my broken leg.

"No!" I try to scream, but it comes out as a muffled moan. I assume Jay is going to use my disadvantage against me like his friends did and start crying out, trying to beg him not to touch it.

"Hush," He says. "I ain't gonna mess with it. Just wanna see how bad it is."

He tries to carefully move my pant leg up, but each touch makes me yelp. Finally he gives up and leaves it alone. He pulls the handkerchief from my mouth and tosses it to the side of us, giving me an odd look. It looks…sympathetic.

I feel weariness wash over me in a strong tide. Jay pulls out a pocket knife and cuts through the bindings on my right hand before he tells me he'll be right back and leaves. It doesn't matter that my hand is free, because I can't reach anything else to untie besides my other hand. And if you think you can pull a knot out of a rope with just one hand, then you're crazy. It's not possible.

So, in a last attempt to ease my pain, I slide a little further down the bed to take the pressure off my foot. It pulls my left hand tighter, but I don't mind.

Jay brings back food and sets it down on the side of the bed. I don't eat it. I know I should, because they don't bring me food very many times a day, but I feel rebellious. Not to mention, I don't know if my stomach can handle it. Jay lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Kid, if you don't eat, I'm gonna stop bringing you food."

I don't give in. I know, somehow, that he'll bring more food again. I keep my lips shut and stare up at the ceiling. He doesn't argue. He moves the food to the floor and leaves my hand untied. After he's gone, I give in to my despair. I'm in the worse pain I've ever been in in my whole life. I don't know how much longer I can stand it. My heart is aching beyond belief. I'm ripping right down the seams and I just want to go home. I'm nothing but overwhelmed.

And so I cry.

I cry for Sodapop, for Darry, for the gang. For Johnny and for Dallas. For my parents. And for me. Because there's absolutely and inevitably nothing else I can do in a situation like this.

So I cry.

XxX

_Darry's POV_

When I was ten and Ponyboy was four, my dad went away for a couple of weeks. He had to travel to work at a house that was pretty far away, but I knew he'd come back soon. Ponyboy, however -being as young as he was- didn't quite understand that. Every night my dad was gone, he cried and called for him. No amount of comforting from my mom, me, or Sodapop made him feel better. It wasn't until my dad came home that Ponyboy finally stopped.

I knew the same thing would happen with Sodapop. Every night that Ponyboy was gone, he cried. He laid in Pony's bed and tried to sleep, but soon he would unknowingly wake me up, sobbing Ponyboy's name. I held him and tried to comfort him, but I knew he wouldn't be settled until Ponyboy was back. He had vivid nightmares that haunted him even during the day. He was, to put it in a lighter term, falling apart.

I was no better. Instead of nightmares, I tossed and turned all night. My mind would race a million miles per hour. Where was Ponyboy? What was happening to him? Was he all right? Was he hurt? Was he alive? Why could no one find him? Why did he just suddenly disappear? Did he get sick of the Socs picking on him? Did he get so mad at us that he ran away again? Did I do something wrong?

_Did_ I do something wrong? That was the one that tore at me. Was this my fault? Maybe I shouldn't have dropped things when Ponyboy had told me to. Maybe I should have done something when I noticed him getting grumpier and more defensive. I saw how jumpy he was. I saw the way he acted that was so out of character for him. And I didn't do anything about it.

That will always be the part I regret the most. Seeing and yet not doing anything. If I had been more stern, more careful, Ponyboy never would have walked away alone that day. No one would have ever found his backpack on the ground, because he never would have dropped it. There would be no search for him, because he would be home, reading some book on the couch or making something to eat in the kitchen. He'd be safe.

Instead, I was jumping at the news that someone had found his backpack; which, in reality, really didn't give us much to go on. It only told us he'd been down a certain trail. And we couldn't even be certain that was where he had really gone because it was obvious someone had been through his backpack and had thrown stuff out. Who knows where his backpack had originally been.

The thing that tormented me the most about finding it was finding a journal of Ponyboy's that he'd written in earlier the day of him going missing. The whole journal was filled with his writings, kind of like a personal diary where he confessed his feelings. He wrote about being picked on by the Socs again and how he wished they would leave him alone.

He talked of some of the things they would do to him that he never told me, Sodapop, or anyone else in the gang. Like how they cornered him in the bathroom one day and scared him so bad that he refused to go back unless it was during a class and the teacher would notice if he didn't return. How they tried to frame him for something they did, which would have gotten him suspended, but his favorite teacher came to his defense. How they knocked him to the ground during a fire drill in the middle of a stampede of students and he nearly got trampled. How they tried countless times to push him down the stairs and one time actually succeeded. I remember he told me that he'd slipped on his shoelace and fell, and I chided him for half an hour about being careless.

They left him threatening notes, some of which were slid in the journal in between the back pages that he hadn't used yet. They tripped him, shoved him into things, taunted him in the hall and during classes, and one time grabbed him and "locked" him in a closet. The door hadn't actually been locked, though. They had been holding onto the handle until a teacher came and they booked it. The teacher yelled at Ponyboy for being in there and not being in class.

And not _once_ did Ponyboy ever rat them out. He took the punishments his teachers gave him, took the yellings I gave him for being careless, and he never said a word.

And I wanted to die. I had been so hard on Ponyboy, when in actuality, he'd been getting picked on so bad that I couldn't even imagine it. I still have the last entry that he wrote on the day he went missing memorized in my head.

_Today is one of the bad days. _(Ponyboy classified them into "good" and "bad" days depending on how bad the Socs picked on him.) _Steve and Two-Bit have been watching me like a hawk and it's making the Socs angry. They kept teasing me for having "bodyguards". As if I can't take care of myself. I wish they'd understand that watching me isn't gonna make the Socs stop. _

_They've been getting worse and it's taking a toll on me. I haven't told anyone and I probably should. I've been getting so grumpy lately. I just wanna be alone, ya know? I don't know if I can handle much more of this. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself. I think you know that though. I'll probably talk to Sodapop after school. He's real good at making things better. But… I don't know about it this time. _

_The Socs got to me when Steve and Two-Bit weren't there. In between second and third period, after the bell had rung. They surrounded me and started walking circles. "Not so tough without your protection, are you?" I guess I really wasn't, cause I was terrified. They shoved me back and forth between them until another greaser happened to be coming down the hallway. Jimmie. The one with the tattoo on his arm. He told them to leave me alone and they mocked him. So he pulled a knife on them. By then I was on the floor because them shoving me had gotten me really dizzy and I wasn't feeling too great. _

"_What are you kids doing?"_

_The Socs bolted down the hall when they heard the voice, but I knew it well enough to know it was Two-Bit doing one of his impressions. He came around the corner and hurried over to me to see if I was all right. For some reason, his fussing over me made me super irritated. I don't know why. Maybe it's time to talk to Darry. _

I never did find out who Ponyboy was writing to in his journal, but I always wondered if he really would have talked to us if he had made it home that day. If he'd just had one more day before he went missing, I could have helped. Sodapop and I could have done something to make it better. To make him feel safe.

But he wasn't safe. And we had done nothing. I would never get over that, because Ponyboy was gone. We had no idea where he was, what he was going through, anything. We just knew he wasn't here. And we had done nothing at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow! Glad you guys are liking this! **

**Please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. I make a lot of mistakes when I write in the early morning hours, haha.**

**Hope you guys are still here. **

**Enjoy!**

.

.

I want to die. I come to terms with this on…well, I don't know what day it is anymore. But I'm ready for it to end. I feel like I've been living in a non-stop nightmare. The fear I had before is gone, and it is replaced now with the melancholy I so longingly aimed to dismiss before. I don't care what you think about me anymore, though. I want to die.

I'm never going to be found. I know this, but I wonder how long they will keep me here before they get bored. Will they set me free after? Will they leave me here to starve to death? Will they accidentally kill me? Or will they _willingly _kill me? I wish for the latter, because at least then this would all be over. And if you think I'm being overdramatic, then you come and live how I've been forced to live for the past…however long I've been here.

Time is never ending. Each minute feels like a thousand. I know that soon I'll go insane. There's no way not to. I just want to die.

I start refusing to drink water. I know that I can't survive for more than a few days without it. I'm hoping it will kill me before this has to go on any longer.

Unfortunately, Jay has other plans. He sees what I'm doing. I'm not surprised, since he's the one who brings me food and water.

"Kid, I ain't gonna let you die from dehydration," He says to me. I don't say anything back. I can feel the effects of it getting to me already. I feel weaker than I have been feeling, and more sick.

"Damn it, Ponyboy," He says in frustration. He slashes through the rope around my wrist and grabs my arm. He forces a bottle of water into my hand.

"Drink," He demands. I don't. If they want to keep me hostage here, then I can play this game. He bends my arm at the elbow and forces my hand up to my mouth. I struggle against him and the water splashes out of the bottle.

He gets frustrated and snatches the bottle from me and then begins to pour it all over my face. I gasp and try to shield myself, but he holds my arm down. I try to remind myself that he can't drown me with this amount of water, no matter what it feels like, but it gets in my nose and down my throat and it burns.

I stop struggling when the water stops flowing. I'm coughing and sputtering water out of my mouth. Jay throws the bottle and then sits down on the side of the mattress, burying his face into his hands.

"Ponyboy," He says with a sigh. "You don't wanna do this, OK? If you start acting like this, it's only gonna get worse for you. The guys don't have any patience. They _will _make you suffer."

I watch him carefully while my breathing starts to calm down. He lifts his head up and looks over at me. "I'm trying to make this easier for you. Really, I am. But if you won't let me help you, then you're just gonna regret it."

I know that he's right. I nod my head.

"OK," I say in a rough voice. It makes my throat ache. He looks at me for a long moment and then nods as well.

"OK," He agrees. "I'll bring you more water."

XxXxX

"Sodapop? What're you doing home?"

He sighed and turned off the water running in the sink.

"I got sent home from work," He said in a scratchy voice.

"Why? What's wrong?' I asked. This time he turned on me with a glare. I raised my hands in surrender, hoping to calm him down. He let out another sigh and ran a hand back through his hair.

"I can't focus. I kept screwing up people's orders."

"Oh." I blinked. I should've figured it had something to do with Ponyboy. I had gotten sent home a day earlier because my lack of concentration nearly sent me falling off a roof.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked. "Just live as if Ponyboy is gone?"

I licked my lips and against my better judgment nodded. Then I shook my head, letting out a groan. "I dunno, Sodapop. I just don't."

"Member what you told Ponyboy?" Sodapop asked. "You don't stop living just cause someone died."

"That ain't the same thing," I said. "That ain't the same thing at all."

"Why not?"

"Cause Ponyboy ain't dead."

Sodapop threw his hands up. "Ain't he?"

I glared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ain't he as good as dead?" Sodapop pushed me, but I didn't move very far. "Ain't like someone is looking for him! We're just doing nothing!"

"We ain't doing nothing, Sodapop!" I let out a hasty breath, trying to keep my tone calm. "What else can we do? We've looked all over. We called the fuzz. Two-Bit and Steve go looking everyday. You and I look when we ain't at work. We're doing all we can."

"Well it ain't enough, is it?" Sodapop stormed past me, but I still heard what he said before he was out of the room. "Cause Ponyboy still ain't here."

I knew he was right.

XxXxX

Time drags on. I'm not sure how much time has passed, but I feel delirious. It's an odd sensation feeling and being aware of it. I've been delirious before, but I was too out of it to actually remember it. It seems so long ago now.

The Socs give me some pity. I'm not sure why, but I don't question it. They untie my feet and one hand. Even though I'm still bound to the bed, it's nice to be able to move. I don't even bother trying to get the knot out on the hand that is still tied. I know it's only a waste of time.

Jay brings more food and a jug of water. I wait until he leaves before I grab the jug and chug as much as I can. I feel like I haven't had water in a long time, even though that's not true. When I finish, I lay back down on my side, careful not to rest my uninjured leg on my broken one. It still hurts, but the pain I feel in the rest of my body makes it seem not as bad. I think I learned about that before in health. Something about how new or worse pain can make other pain not seem as bad. You know, I really don't care if I learned it or not.

I sleep. This is where I fall into my delirious state. My body is tired, but it's a fitful sleep. I awake often and for no reason. I feel like I've just fallen asleep when I wake again. It's disorientating.

I'm not sure how long I'm asleep when the Socs come back. It's not their talking that wakes me, but the feeling of someone cutting the rope around my wrist. I open my eyes, but I'm not really conscious. I'm not really there. Everything is a daze and moves in slower motion than it should. I feel like I'm watching a TV with a bad signal. Sometimes things come through into my brain, but none of it really makes sense. I close my eyes again.

I'm aware the Socs are moving me. I can hear them talking and feel them touching me. I can't help them in any way, though, even if I wanted to. I'm dead weight. They drag me back over to the wall where I had been before. I open my eyes wearily as they tie my wrists to the frame behind me. I can barely keep my head up.

Someone is in front of me, lifting my chin. It's Jay. He's kneeled down, examining my face. He looks carefully into my eyes, saying something to the people around us. I can't make out all of it, but I'm fairly sure I hear him mention something about his friends being "dumb asses." He lets go of my face and I use all my strength to keep my head from falling down. Jay starts stalking to his friends again and I can make out bits and pieces.

"Idiots…too far…go to jail and then…broken leg…go far…"

"We could break his other leg." That sentence comes through loud and clear, right from the mouth of one of the other Socs. It forces its way into my brain.

I panic.

That Soc and another one start arguing about something that I can't make out. Jay shoots me a look as I go into a frenzy and pull desperately on my hands. They can't break my other leg. They can't. I'm faintly aware that I'm whimpering through all the commotion that's broken out.

"Stop!" Jay yells, silencing everyone at once. We all look at him. He pinches the bridge of his nose. I wonder if he does this every time he's mad.

"We ain't breaking his leg," He says. "I told you, this ain't a torture fest. We'll keep him tied to something. He can't go too far in his condition anyway. I doubt he can walk."

I doubt it, too. Jay waves his hand slowly in front of my face. It snaps me out of my daze and makes me aware that I'm crying. He sighs and runs a hand back through his hair.

"How much longer?" Someone asks. Jay waits a moment before he answers.

"Not too long, I'm afraid."

My previous delirium has seemed to wash away, leaving me able to think more clearly. I take back what I said before. I take it all back. I don't wanna die. I want to live.

Please, oh please, don't let them kill me_._


	5. Chapter 5

**I realize the probability of this story is a bit...inaccurate. I don't think Socs are THIS mean.**

**However, I GREATLY appreciate your reviews! I love love love them! They make my life :)  
><strong>

**Now I must go back to watching The Outsiders TV show. So different, but awesome at the same time.  
><strong>

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

Have you ever fallen asleep and when you woke up, it seems like you just closed your eyes? Like you were only asleep for a second, but now you have to get up? That's what happened to me. Only I'm not sure how long I was actually asleep. It could have literally been a second for all I know.

But I'm out of it when I do wake up. I feel drowsy, almost drugged in a way. I lift my head up as my vision swarms in front of me. Someone is there. It looks like…a cop? I close my eyes tightly for a second and reopen them, hoping to clear my vision.

It _is _a cop. I'm not sure what he's doing, but I can't make him out clearly. I open my mouth, but something blocks me from speaking, so I close it again and watch him with weary eyes.

He turns as a few Socs come into the room. They high-five him and start laughing. With heart breaking realization, it gets through my mind that this isn't a cop. It's a Soc dressed as one. My brain works slowly. Is it Halloween? I'm not sure. I don't know what month it is anymore.

"Oh, ho ho," The Soc lowers his voice dramatically, trying to sound funny. "Look at me, I'm a cop."

His friends crack up, but I don't get what's so funny. He sounds dumb. He looks dumb. He made me feel dumb.

"I'm here to rescue you, Ponyboy!" The Soc jokes. "Ain't that fantastic?"

I close my eyes, which only makes them laugh.

"Aw, the kid is crying," One of them mocks. It isn't until that moment that I realize I _am_ crying. I can't even explain why. Perhaps it's because for a brief moment, I thought I was finally going to get out of here. I thought I'd see Soda and Darry again. I thought this hell would finally end.

It had only begun.

XxXxX

I kicked a rock and let out a sigh. I had walked that street a million times. I knew Ponyboy wasn't anywhere on it. I guess I had been hoping that maybe he'd turn up someplace I already looked. Just like when you lose something and it suddenly shows up in a place it hadn't been before. He never showed up, though.

I was falling apart. We all were. I could see it in Sodapop the most. Ponyboy was Sodapop's whole life. He loved Ponyboy more than I've ever seen someone love someone else before. And sure, Sodapop loved me too, but there was something different with him and Ponyboy, just like there was something different with him and me.

Two-Bit was the worst after him. He skipped school, which was unusual for him, and looked everywhere he could think. Unlike when Ponyboy had run away before, we had no lead to where he was. It drove Two-Bit insane. He didn't know what to do with himself and sometimes it was nearly impossible to cool him down.

Steve, on the other hand, _was_ impossible to cool down when he was set off. He was ready to start a rumble with the Socs. He and Two-Bit got in fights almost everyday with the Socs at school, trying to figure who took Ponyboy and where he was. But they didn't find anything.

Every night Sodapop's nightmares got worse and everyday he cried more and more. I wasn't prone to nightmares myself, but I remember I had one of the worst dreams of my life. Usually I don't remember my dreams, but this one…this one would probably never leave me.

I was asleep when someone starting banging on the door. It was loud and frantic. I wasn't sure why someone would be knocking since we left the door unlocked, but I also didn't care. I got up and stumbled my way down the hall, grumbling to myself. When I got to the door, however, no one was there.

"What the hell?" I asked, looking around. Whoever it was probably left when I didn't answer fast enough. Maybe Steve got kicked out and came over and couldn't get the door open. Either way, I shut it and turned around to go back to bed.

Just as fast as lightening, there was suddenly someone standing at the beginning of the hallway. I gasped and stepped back, caught off guard. Then my senses kicked in and I prepared myself for a fight.

"Dar…" The person said quietly. I flipped on the lights quickly and froze. It was Ponyboy. A very injured and battered looking Ponyboy. Dried blood was all over his face and neck. His arms were discolored from bruises in various shapes and sizes. His clothes were torn and his hair was tousled. He looked horrible.

I ran forward and pulled him into a hug.

"Ponyboy," I heaved a great sigh of relief. I pushed him back at arm's length and looked him over.

"Was the door locked?" I asked, feeling suddenly terrible. He shook his head. _How could the door have been locked if he was inside? _I thought to myself. Duh.

Ponyboy took a step back away from me. He was breathing weird. Something was wrong. I saw his lips tremble before blood spilled out of his mouth. My breath left me.

I knew I needed to grab Ponyboy and go. I needed to take him to the hospital, but…I couldn't move. I couldn't make myself take any step closer to him. I was terrified.

"Darry…" He whispered. I noticed for the first time his hand was clutching his stomach. I saw blood leaking out from behind his fingers. Finally I moved. I ushered him forward, looking around. Where was Sodapop? I didn't know, but he wasn't there and I wasn't going to wait. I'd call him from the hospital.

Ponyboy was unsteady on his feet and when we made it to the bottom of the porch, he collapsed. I hurried to him and went to gather him in my arms to carry him, but he stopped me.

"Stop," He said quietly. "It's too late."

"No, I can-"

He cut me off, weakly grabbing my wrist. "I'm dying, Darry."

I held back a sob and shook my head. "No…you ain't…we just need some help…please, Ponyboy…"

"Darry," He said again, closing his eyes. "It's too late."

Blood started leaking from his mouth again and he coughed, sputtering it everywhere. To my horror, it started coming out of his nose. Then his eyes. Then his ears.

"NO!" I screamed. I gathered his upper body in my arms and cradled him to my chest. His head fell back and no more air escaped from his lips.

"Ponyboy!" I sobbed. "Please wake up. Please don't die. Ponyboy!"

But he had been right. It was too late.

When I woke up, it took all I had not to cry. I won't pretend like I tried to be masculine. That pain was just too real.

I got up and checked Ponyboy's room, hoping the whole thing had just been a bad dream, but he wasn't there. It was just Sodapop, lying in Pony's bed, arm flung around a pillow and fast asleep. I was happy he was actually sleeping. I closed the door quietly and pulled on some clothes before grabbing my blade and heading outside. Normally it wasn't safe to walk around alone outside, especially at dark, when you were a greaser. But nobody messes with me. And everyone knows that.

I went to the lot and found an old football that we must have left there. I picked it up and thumbed it for a minute before I let the rage inside of me burst and chucked it as hard as I could at the wall. Fury, pain…brokenness…it all took over me. I went to the wall and slammed my fist against it. And then…

I cried. I broke down and cried.

I won't hide it. I might have, if no one else had seen, but that wasn't the case because a few moments after I sat down on the ground in tears, I felt someone sit next to me and put an arm around my shoulder. Sodapop. He always knew. Always.

We both cried. We stayed in the lot for hours and talked about everything we could remember about Ponyboy. His laugh, his smile, the way his eyes lit up. We talked about the annoying habits he had, which didn't seem so annoying after all. In fact, at the moment, I would have given my life just to see him gnaw on the end of his pencil while he worked on homework, or hear him crack his knuckles every few minutes when he was bored. Things that normally drove me crazy would have been a blessing then. Just to know Ponyboy was alive and OK.

I would have given anything.

XxXxX

"You think a drill would work?" One of the Socs asks. I listen to them with my eyes closed, head tilted back. The one dressed as a cop answers.

"Yeah! We ain't got a drill though."

"Yeah, we do. Look."

I hear it turn on and then off, proving its existence. It's only the two Socs now. I don't know where the other ones went. I don't care. I don't care much about anything anymore.

"Bring him to the bed again."

My eyes shoot open as the Soc kneels beside me and cuts my hands free. Then he and the cop are pulling me up to my feet. As they start to drag me over to the bed, they chat excitedly.

"Where should we do it?" The cop asks.

"How about his leg? The other one?" The Soc motions down towards my good leg. I try to grasp what's going on.

The cop has the drill in his hand and he turns it on, laughing. "Ever had a drill in your leg, kid?"

I. Freak. Out. I struggle against them and scream, but they just grab me tighter and work harder to drag me. I fight with everything I have. The Soc socks me in the stomach and I nearly drop to the floor. The cop brings the drill in front of my face.

"This will be fun," He says with a smile. As he goes towards my leg, I feel my body convulse and I throw up. This is the first time I've ever been so scared that I puked. It makes the Socs laugh.

I must have blacked out, because the next thing I know, I'm limp in their arms and I'm suddenly in a different place. They throw me down on the bed and it takes me a moment to get my head back together.

"Knock it off," Someone says lazily. The two Socs turn towards the voice. It's Jay.

The one dressed as a cop laughs. "Oh we ain't really gonna do it. Just trying to scare him."

"What the hell are you wearing?" Jay asks, pulling on the cop uniform.

"I'm a cop!" The Soc says. His friend high fives him. I feel my stomach lurch and I lean over the side of the bed and throw up again.

All three of them jump back and everyone but Jay swears and curses at me about how gross it is. Jay, however, looks at his friends with raised eyebrows.

"What did you guys do to him?"

"Just scared him is all."

I close my eyes and collapse against the bed. I'm not sure I've ever felt this sick in my life. I feel a cool hand on my forehead.

"Enough, OK?" Jay asks gently. "You know what she said."

"Yeah," One of them agrees solemnly. "We're sorry, Jay."

"That's all right," Jay says. "Just…don't do it again."

I feel myself grow weaker and the last thing I hear is Jay talking about two greasers beating up one of his friends cause they were looking for me. I smile right before I pass out. Two-Bit and Steve still have hope for me. I just need some for myself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys. PLEASE READ THIS. **

**First, sorry about not updating my other story. Darry and I are having some problems (that meaning there is three versions of the same chapter going on right now. We're working things out.)**

**Second, there's some disturbing images in this chapter. You'll know it when you see it. Just a reminder this is rated for a reason. I might need to change the rating for future chapters though because I'm not sure how much I can get away with.  
><strong>

**Thirdly, I'm sorry if I didn't get a chance to reply to your review! I tried to do a lot, but might have missed you. If you have a question, PLEASE make sure you sign in so I can respond and answer it :)  
><strong>

**I can't believe how many reviews I have so far. Thanks so much!  
><strong>

**Enjoy.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

The next time I wake there are many things going on at once. Someone is tying my hands together. Someone is pressing down tape over my lips. People are yelling all around me. I shift my gaze in a panic to look all over, but nothing makes sense. They are trying to get me up, get me to walk. I can't. Finally two of them just pick me up.

"Hurry!" Someone yells.

"You'd better stay quiet, kid," I hear someone else say. I think it might be Jay, but I'm not sure. The atmosphere around me suddenly changes. I'm outside. I have to close my eyes tightly because it's so bright.

"Get him to the trunk."

My eyes shoot open in horror. My complaints come out as moans through the tape over my mouth and I struggle and try to twist myself out of their grips. They're stronger than me, though. They open the trunk of a car and force me inside.

"Stay quiet and nothing will happen. Got it?" One of them asks me, but before I can answer, they are shutting the lid and submerging me in the dark.

I pull on my hands that are bound behind me and moan. This is the perfect time to discover I'm claustrophobic. The combination of my hands being tied together, being in a small place, and not having any light to see with is making me panic. I pull on my hands again and my wrist throbs painfully.

I can hear the Socs talking, mixing with new voices. I start trying to scream, even though it's almost useless. One of the Socs swears and then opens the trunk. He shoves a hand over my mouth and gets close to my face.

"If you keep screaming, I promise you I will snap your other leg in half. Shut it. Now."

Tears fill my eyes as he lets go and closes the lid again. Right before he does, I see what they are hiding me from. The fuzz. I assume they are going to look through the warehouse or ask why the Socs are there. Or…actually, I don't know what they'll do. I'm too busy trying to think about my options.

I could scream. I could desperately yell as loud as I could and hope the cops hear me. But…if they don't…then I will face serious pain. What are the chances the cops will hear me? I'm inside of a trunk…I can't open my mouth…Think, Ponyboy, think…how loud will it sound outside of the car? I put myself outside with the cops and the Socs and imagine. It would sound loud enough, depending on how close they are.

I don't do it. I know they aren't close enough and even if they are, the Socs will make some excuse about the sound. Then I will have two broken legs. It's not worth it.

I close my eyes and cry. Knowing I'm so close to freedom, but so far away…it makes my heart ache more than anything I've ever felt. I want to go home. I just want to go home.

XxX

I think I've fallen asleep in the darkness when I'm woken later by the trunk opening. I close my eyes to shield them from the bright light.

"We should drive him around for a bit. Have some fun," One of the Socs suggests. I moan. To my surprise, it's not Jay that comes to my defense first. It's a different Soc.

"Are you stupid? That's the dumbest idea I ever heard. We can't risk getting caught with him in the trunk of our car. I ain't going to jail."

"We ain't driving him anywhere. He's going back in the warehouse," Jay says. He and the other Soc pick me up while their friends grumble and agree. They take me back into the warehouse and toss me on the bed. Jay kneels down and cuts my hands free before ripping the tape off my mouth. I cry out and stretch my lips.

"Hurts, huh?" Jay asks with a laugh. "The joy of facial hair."

I snort and roll onto my back, rubbing my wrists. I don't have facial hair. It just hurts.

"How do you feel, kid?" He asks. I glance at him, my face guarded from emotion.

"I have to make sure you ain't dying," He says. "We ain't supposed to hurt you too bad."

"Too late for that," I mutter. He rolls his eyes.

"Those two dumb idiots don't really follow rules. Don't let them scare you."

"Why do you care?" I grumble. I know I shouldn't be mean to the only person who's been nice to me, but I can't help it.

"Watch the attitude, I'm just trying to help. Besides, she says she don't want you hurt."

"Who?" I ask.

"It's weird, really," He continues as though he didn't hear me, "She ain't got a clue where you are or who has you, but she keeps threatening us all." He shakes his head and let out a laugh. "I dunno why, but I really believe her."

XxXxX

When a police officer showed up at our door early one morning, I finally understood the State was mad. No, the State was pissed. Someone, a _child_, under their watch was missing and our lazy cops were not concerned about it all. That's why, when I opened my door that day, I saw an out-of-town cruiser. Fuzz from a different place. Unbiased, maybe nice.

He asked me and Sodapop all kinds of questions to get information. Ponyboy's height, which…neither of us knew (we gave him examples by comparing him to Soda's height), Ponyboy's weight, hair color, eye color, last date seen, most recent photograph; Ponyboy's school habits and the paths he took home from it; who his friends were, who his enemies were, and everything else under a blue moon. I never did know what that phrase meant.

It made me almost…giddy, the questions and concern he showed. _Finally _someone was going to take this serious.

"Do you think they'll find him?" Sodapop asked me.

"I sure hope so, little buddy," I said.

"Darry…" Sodapop trailed off.

"What?"

"Do you…do you think…"

"Do I think what?" I asked more gently.

Sodapop dropped his voice to a whisper. "Do you think he'll be _alive_?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I hadn't even thought about that.

XxXxX

I am a smart mouth. Or, well, that's what those two Socs keep telling me. I was having one of my rebellious moments. My emotions keep flaring on me. I just don't know what's going on inside my head.

"Better to be smart than dumb like you," I retort.

"Big words, greaser," One of the Socs responds. "You're asking for it."

I roll my eyes. "Should I use small words so you can understand what I'm saying?"

"You've got a real problem holding your tongue, kid," The other Soc says. "Maybe I'll just cut it out for you."

I hold my breath. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Jay told me not to let them scare me. So…I don't.

"Would that make you feel tough?" I ask. "Big ol' bad Soc takes advantage of a helpless greaser. Ain't that gonna-"

But then he lunges at me so quick that I don't know what's happening. I'm trying to throw him off before I know what I'm doing, but then I'm met with the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. It feels like a thousand knives are attacking my face. I can taste thick blood in my mouth and there's suddenly a hollow feeling where my tongue should be. _It's gone._

I want to spit the blood out, but I can't. Someone's screaming. _I'm_ screaming. I try to swallow, but gag on where my tongue should be. But it's not. It's not there.

Blood gushes out of my open mouth as I topple to the floor. I writhe in pain, clawing desperately at my face as I scream. I feel my flesh under my fingernails, ripping from my face with what should have been agonizing pain. It's nothing compared to my mouth.

Blood pours from my nose now, leaking down the side of my face. I think it's coming from my ears. My head is exploding. It has to be. I can't breathe. I choke on the blood and rip at my eyes.

_Make it stop make it stop make it stop. _

"PONYBOY!"

The yell is loud, but not louder than my screams. My voice is going hoarse, trying to quiet me. I feel hands on me, shaking me.

"WAKE. UP!"

I pull to consciousness. It was just a dream. I tell myself that over and over again, but my stomach is still nauseated. I can still taste blood. I blindly push myself up and lean over the side of the mattress, puking everything in my stomach.

I collapse down against the bed and take a few deep breaths. My tongue is there. It's not gone. It's not gone.

"Glory, kid," Someone sighs. Dally? There's a hand on my forehead, checking my temperature. I realize one of my wrists is still bound to the bed and then I seem to get where I am. It's not Dally. It's Jay.

"Don't touch me," I mumble, closing my eyes. "Please."

His hand retreats quickly. He lets out a shaky sigh. "Do you always scream like someone is killing you when you have nightmares?"

I nod wearily. My throat hurts. A lot. "When Soda's not 'round."

Jay is silent for a moment. I can't see his face or what's he doing, but then he speaks again. "I thought they were killing you or something."

"M'not dead," I mutter. "Wish I was."

He ignores the last the part. "What the hell did you dream of to make you freak out like that?"

"Cut off my tongue," I whisper thickly, swallowing back a sob.

"I did?" Jay asks. I shake my head.

"Oh, those two idiots did," He reasons. I nod.

"Kid, trust me," He says. "If those two cut out your tongue, I'd cut off something real important to them in return."

I smile. Well, that's good to know.


	7. Chapter 7

**WOW! I can't believe I have 100 reviews so far! That's insane! Thank you guys so much! I'll try to keep it calm for you guys so I don't have to change the rating (unlesssss you all don't mind it being changed)**

**Again, sorry if I didn't reply back to you. I've been trying to get everyone. And if you have a question that I didn't answer, feel free to PM me or leave a review asking again or whatever you want!  
><strong>

**If you're reading my other story, I PROMISE I'm working on it! I just thought I'd put out this short chapter so you guys can have something to read.  
><strong>

**P.S. These chapters are already written, so don't worry about me wasting time on them instead of working on my other story :)  
><strong>

**Enjoy.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**(Remember things aren't always as they seem, especially with people who are sick.)  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Ponyboy."<p>

I can hear the voice from almost far away. I'm drowsy, lying with my hand up next to my face. It's the first thing I see when I tiredly open my eyes.

"Ponyboy!"

My vision swarms in front of me and I look up over my hand. I'm not on a bed. I'm on a couch. Wait…not just _a_ couch, but _my _couch. The couch inside my house, in my living room. What the f-

"C'mon, kiddo!" The voice calls again. "Breakfast is almost ready!"

I know that voice. That voice is my oldest brother, and for the first time ever, I'm not wishing he would shut up and let me sleep. It just…it can't be. I'm not home. That's not where I had been.

"Dar, he's sick," Another voice says. "Maybe he don't wanna eat."

"Eating will help him feel better," Darry says. "C'mon, Pone."

Then someone is by me, kneeling down. I feel a hand push my hair away from my forehead and then rest on my cheek.

"Hey, Pone," A voice says softly. "How're you feeling?"

"S-Sodapop?" I ask hoarsely. "What… the hell?"

I didn't mean to say that part out loud, but I can't control my feelings. How the hell did I end up back in my house? I was in a warehouse, being tortured, being held captive. I can't be home…can I?

Sodapop frowns and gives me a look. "You still feel a little warm. Do you feel sick?"

I swallow hard and nod. I do. "Where am I?"

Sodapop's frown deepens and his face melts to concern. He looks over his shoulder. "Darry!"

I move to push myself up from my stomach, but Sodapop stops me. "Hang on, Pone. Sit still."

"What's wrong?" Darry asks as he comes into the living room, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

"Something's wrong with Ponyboy," Sodapop says. "He doesn't know where he is."

"Yes I do," I protest weakly.

"Then why'd you ask?" Sodapop asks me.

"I…" But how could I explain?

"Ponyboy, where are you?" Darry asks.

"In the living room," I mutter. I'm not stupid, just confused. Darry nods in approval.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

I rack my brain for a few moments. "Falling asleep in the warehouse."

"What warehouse?"

"The one I was…I was…" Oh _God_. What was happening? "I was kidnapped…by the Socs…"

Darry drops to his knees next to Sodapop and feels my forehead. "Maybe we should call the doc."

"No," I say. "Just…tell me how I got here."

"You never left, Ponyboy," Darry says gently. Sodapop looks like he wants to cry. I feel sick.

"Yes I did," I argue. "I was gone for…I dunno…but I ain't…I was gone…"

Darry shakes his head and rubs my hair. "You've been sick, Ponyboy. I think you're confused."

I feel tears prickling my eyes. "I ain't…but it was so real…"

"Do you remember the Socs chasing you after school?" Darry asks. "When you wouldn't go with Steve?"

I nod and Darry continues on. "You fell…and you hit your head pretty hard. You've been sick for the past few days. We took you to the doc…do you remember that?"

I gape at him. "N-no."

"I think you just had a nightmare."

I shake my head stubbornly as tears fall onto my cheeks. "No, I didn't! They kidnapped me, Darry. They tied me up and held me hostage and I broke my leg and they…"

But I can't continue. Darry and Sodapop look extremely concerned. Was it true? Had it all been a nightmare because I had hit my head? I might puke. I might…I…

"Ponyboy, breathe."

I'm faintly aware I'm shaking with tremors and my breath is coming out as gasps. How is this possible? How can I be here?

"Ponyboy." A hand reaches towards me. It doesn't look normal. It's gray and cracked like porcelain.

"Don't!"

I fall off the couch somehow and then back myself into it, pulling my knees into my chest. Darry and Sodapop are next to me. I can't breathe. Everything is closing in on me. I can literally feel the walls sliding closer, the ground shaking underneath me.

"Please," I mumble, burying my face into my knees. "Please leave me alone."

"Sodapop, back up. Give him some room," Darry demands, but he doesn't move himself. "Easy, Ponyboy."

"I think he's hallucinating."

I close my eyes tightly and shove my hands over my ears. "Don't touch me," I mumble, even though no has made a move to do so.

"Kid, you're gonna break your arm if I don't move it."

That's _not_ Darry. Or Sodapop. I don't know who it is, but he confuses me. I can feel him moving my arm from it's painful position, a position I wasn't aware it had even been in.

What. The. Hell.

"_Hallucinating_," I hear the voice echoing in my head. The entire atmosphere around me changes. I'm still sitting, but not in the same place I had been before. I can feel people around me.

"Ponyboy?"

"Maybe you should hit him."

"Maybe I should hit _you_."

I realize why my arm hurts. It's tied to something. I open my eyes and the familiar warehouse greets me. I'm on the ground next to the mattress, my back pressed against it, my hand pulled tight against my bonds. I let out a sound mixed between a sob and a laugh. I _had_ been hallucinating. I _had _been confused, but not in the right reality.

"We're gonna have to tie his other hand back up, Jay. He'll keep flinging himself off the bed if we don't."

"Yeah, I know," Jay says. "Just give me a minute to make sure he ain't loony."

I swallow hard, reach out blindly, and grasp Jay's arm. He looks down at my hand and then up at my face.

"Jay," I say shakily. He looks…concerned.

"What?"

"Kill me," I whisper. "Please. Just…kill me."

Jay looks up at his friend who's standing beside us. They share a silent look and I close my eyes so I don't have to see anything more. I drop Jay's hand and run my own through my hair. My leg is throbbing, but I try to ignore it.

"I don't think so," Jay murmurs to a question I can't understand being asked by his friend. I feel my throat itching with another sob.

What the hell.

* * *

><p><strong>A word of advice in literature: Don't always assume a first person narrator is reliable (or telling the truth, for that matter. Though Ponyboy is, he's just confused). Sometimes they can be down right crazy and you'd believe everything they'd tell you :)<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks SO much for all the reviews! It's insane how much I got. I'm wrapping up my other story soon, so this one will take over.  
><strong>

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**P.S. this chapter is a bit chaotic, but it's supposed to be. Follow along best you can and you can ask me any question you'd like if you are confused :) there is also a swear word :O  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"We can't just leave him here!"<p>

"Well we can't let him go! He'll rat us out."

I can hear voices talking, but I can't open my eyes. They're too heavy. I realize both my hands are bound to the bed frame again and I try to stay still. Moving only reminds me how much I can't move. I try to breathe through the claustrophobia.

"What do you expect us to do? Just let him die here?"

"It's the only way we can get out safe."

I bite back a shudder. They're going to let me die. They're going to leave me here to rot.

"You don't get out safe!" A voice explodes.

"Why not?"

"Because our fingerprints are all over this place, idiots. And you two morons are suspects!"

"I don't even know why we are."

"Probably cause you run your mouth all the time."

I smile at that. Jay is giving them hell. Maybe he won't let me die. Maybe I'll be OK. Then again, I don't know if I'll be OK even if they let me go. I can't get home. I can't get anywhere. It's not like I can just walk on out of here. I don't even know where home is. I don't know where _I_ am.

"You guys just don't get it, do you?" Jay asks.

"Get what?"

"There's no situation where you win. We've taken this too far. Someone's gonna go to jail."

I shift my weight in anxiousness and it pulls on every binding, including the ones on my legs that I wasn't aware about before. They've tied down my broken leg again and it jerks, making me convulse. I let out an involuntary scream and feel my face contort in pain.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I dunno." Someone approaches me and I feel them shake my arm. "What is it, kid?"

"Leg," I mutter, letting out a breath I wasn't intending to hold.

"I thought it'd heal by now," Someone says. How long have I been here?

"Takes longer than that," Jay says. "Not to mention you guys keep making it worse by doing stuff like this."

There's silence for a few moments. I don't dare open my eyes. I don't wanna see what they are doing.

"Ain't much fun anymore, is it?" Jay mutters. I snort. It makes Jay chuckle softly.

"No," A soc agrees with a laugh. "It sure ain't."

XxXxX

I was in the kitchen when I heard a loud crash from Sodapop's room, followed by a chain of swear words. I turned the oven off and hurried down the hall to see what had happened. I found Sodapop kneeling on the ground next to his dresser, picking up pieces of broken glass.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I broke a frame," Sodapop said, swiping at his face. I let out a sigh. He was crying.

"Soda." I kneeled down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. The picture in the frame was one of all three of us that had been taken when we were younger. Soda had one of the pieces gripped tight in his hand and I could see blood dripping from his fist.

"Glory," I muttered, grabbing his hand and prying it open. I took the glass from him and pulled him to his feet. "What're you doing, Sodapop?"

He didn't say anything. He let me drag him to the bathroom and wash his hand clean, covering it with a bandage. When I was done, I turned on him, angry.

"What the hell, Sodapop?" I asked. "You can't do stuff like that."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I ain't a child, Darry."

"Then stop acting like one."

"Stop treating me like one!" He said angrily.

"Sodapop, grow up!" I yelled. "Ponyboy is gone! We can't do anything until he's found and you hurting yourself ain't gonna help!"

Tears pours down Sodapop's face. He was fuming. He jarred a finger at me. "It was an accident, OK? And I wish you'd stop pretending like everything is fine! It's not! Ponyboy is gone! You said it yourself!"

"Yeah, he is, Sodapop! But gone doesn't mean he's dead! Stop acting like he is!"

"Do you realize how long he's been gone, Darry?" Sodapop asked, his voice low. It scared me. I'd never seen him so angry before. "If he ain't dead by now, he's going to be soon."

I took a step back in shock. For a few moments I couldn't say anything. "You don't mean that, Sodapop. You're just upset. You need to cool off."

"Listen to me, Darry!" Sodapop cried. "This ain't some fairytale or show on TV. People don't come back after this long!"

"Stop it!" I yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Just stop!"

"You stop!" Sodapop's tears increased. He was going to break. He was going to explode. "Stop pretending like Ponyboy's fine! He ain't ever coming back!"

"Soda!" I shook him. "Knock it off!"

Sodapop broke out of my grip and backed into the wall in the hallway, looking at me through teary eyes. He swallowed hard and then let out a sob, sinking to the ground.

"He ain't coming back, is he?" He whispered. I threw myself down and grabbed him in a hug, holding him close.

"You have to have faith," I whispered. "For Ponyboy's sake."

XxXxX

I'm screaming. Someone's trying to calm me down. Someone else is trying to shut me up. They shove a hand over my mouth and I struggle against them.

"Stop it!" Someone shouts. I try to twist out of their grasp. It pulls on the ropes that bind me and sends pain shooting through my limbs. I let out a muffled cry.

"Ponyboy!" Someone yells. "Be quiet! Calm down. You're making it worse."

Suddenly someone is reaching into my mouth. My head is being held still. I open my eyes in a panic. Someone with a hood is above me. I can't see their face. They have pliers in their hand and I realize that's what in my mouth.

"No!" I try to scream. The pliers grab a tooth and start yanking. The pain is unbearable. I try to twist my head, to free myself, but I'm stuck. I scream more. I want to die. The person pulls harder on my tooth. I can feel myself convulsing from the pain, my screams radiating in my ears. Blood is in my mouth. My gums are throbbing. My whole face hurts. I shut my eyes.

"Shit!" Someone yells. "Let go of him!"

The pliers vanish, as does the hand over my mouth, but I'm choking. Someone is pulling me, but my bindings are stopping them.

"Cut his hand! Now!"

I'm suffocating. I feel a sudden release of pressure on one of my hands and then I'm turned to the side, coughing up whatever was in my throat. Someone is hitting me on the back. The pain in my mouth is fading and I realize as I throw up that none of that happened. There were no pliers. There was only someone trying to shut me up.

I'm hopelessly losing my mind.

"Get the water."

"You heard him! Get the water."

"Kid, drink this. Rinse your mouth out."

I take the water that's being offered to me and then swish it around, spitting it out. I heave and throw up again afterwards.

"Jay, this kid needs to be in a hospital."

"No duh."

"Make sure he ain't hallucinating anymore. We have to go."

"Ponyboy, is anything weird happening?" Someone asks me. I lay my face against the mattress and shake my head.

"Let's go!" Someone shouts from farther away. "We're running out of time!"

"This is done," A new voice says. It's one I haven't heard before, yet somehow I recognize it. "You guys ain't doing this to him anymore."

"I'm guessing you have a plan then?"

"Yeah, I do. But we gotta get out of here now."

Someone puts a hand on my forehead. It's gentle. Soft. "This will be over soon, Ponyboy. I promise."

I feel myself drifting from consciousness, wondering what that means. At this moment, I don't think I'd mind death so much anymore.

XxXxX

I could hear Sodapop screaming in his sleep. It wasn't loud, but it was loud enough to wake me. I hurried to his room and shook him awake.

"Soda!"

He gasped and sat up quickly, grasping his face. I sat down on his bed and grabbed his shoulders.

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly. He moaned and buried his face into his hands. I shook him gently. "Sodapop!"

"Bad dream," He gasped, swallowing hard. "Hurts."

"What hurts?" I asked with concern.

"My mouth," He said in a shaky voice. I pulled his hands away from his face and made him open his mouth to see if anything was wrong. Everything looked normal.

"Looks fine," I said. "What'd you dream about?"

"Someone was trying to rip my tooth out," He shuddered. "But I wasn't me exactly. I think I was supposed to be Ponyboy."

"Ponyboy?" I gave him a look. "That's a weird dream, kiddo."

"I know," Sodapop sighed. "It really hurt, Dar."

"Maybe we need to get you to a dentist."

Sodapop rolled his eyes. "No thanks."

I laughed and squeezed his shoulder. "Does it still hurt?"

He shook his head. "Not so much anymore." He bit his lip and looked down. "Dar?"

"Yeah, little buddy?"

"You don't think they would-" He cut himself off, wringing his hands together.

"Pull Ponyboy's tooth out?" I filled in the blanks.

"Yeah," He said sheepishly.

I shook my head. "I don't think anyone's that cruel, even the Socs."

Sodapop was silent for a moment. "Do you think we would...like, feel it...if he was gone?"

"I think _you_ would. I swear you guys are like twins sometimes."

Sodapop let out a soft laugh and nodded. I gave him a hug, letting him hold tight for a few minutes. Sodapop needed all the comfort he could get.

I needed it, too.


	9. Chapter 9

**I know what I said...I know. **

**I told you this story was done, but now I've decided to re-write some things, which is why it's taking so long. Please don't get mad. I'm just trying to make future chapters better :) There were some ideas I wanted to fix and change.**

**I honestly can NOT believe the amount of reviews I got on this last chapter. You guys are amazing! Sorry if I didn't get to respond to you!  
><strong>

**Anyway...please try to forgive me for taking so long.  
><strong>

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

Sodapop had been shaken about his dream for a long time after he had it. He wasn't sure why he had dreamed about it. I had to remind him about the time when we were younger and Ponyboy had a nightmare of a bully at school pulling his tooth out. He'd explained it to Sodapop in full detail while he cried on and on. It took a whole lot of convincing and bribing to make him go back to the dentist after that.

"I think you were just dreaming about what he dreamed," I had said to him. "Things like that happen when you're missing someone."

The answer had satisfied Sodapop, but I knew the dream left him haunted. How could it not? If you had to watch from the position of your little brother as someone ripped your tooth out, listening to him scream, unable to do anything…wouldn't you be haunted, too?

I sighed and looked around the kitchen. Most of the food in the house was gone. Sodapop had torn through it with no mercy. He could eat his fair share sometimes, but I knew what he was trying to do. And I knew that no amount of food would ever fill that hole inside him. Believe me, I tried it, too.

"Sodapop!" I called. I heard him come inside, the door slamming closed behind him.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"I'm gonna have to go to the store. Mind holding the fort down here while I'm gone?"

"Sure thing, Dar," Sodapop said. He hesitated a moment and bit his lip. "Do you…do you think you could get…"

"What?"

He sighed. "Those mint cookie things."

"You hate those, Sodapop," I pointed out.

"I know," He said, wringing his hands together. "Just…could you?"

I shrugged. "Whatever you want, kid."

I didn't understand it during that moment, but later, when I was in the store, I got it. Every time Ponyboy had ever been shopping, either with me or one of my parents, he'd sneak those cookies into the cart. He wasn't very good about actually sneaking them in without us seeing, but we'd buy them for him regardless of that. As he got older, he didn't try to sneak them anymore. He simply grabbed them and threw them in with the rest of the groceries. I never said no to him getting them and neither did my parents.

I bought them. I don't know why. I don't know why Sodapop wanted them either. Perhaps he thought eating them would fill the hole inside him, or perhaps he thought having them in the cupboard would make things seem normal. Having something Ponyboy loved that no one else did would make it seem like he wasn't really gone.

Right?

XxX

I'm alone and I'm acutely aware of it. It's dark and oddly quiet. Something is off. Something is different, but I'm not sure what. There's an emptiness here that wasn't here before. It makes me feel cold.

I feel like I'm trapped inside my body. I don't move. It's not that I can't, it's just that I _don't_. I'm still bound to this stupid frame on this stupid mattress and everything just reminds me that I can't move as much as I wish I could. Sure, I still have a free hand, but there's not much I can do being able to bend one arm.

It's agonizing. Not just the pain, but the silence…the emptiness. And not to mention, it's boring. I'm going to die a slow, agonizing, boring death. Alone.

Suddenly the smell of smoke fills my senses. It snaps me out of my haze and in a panic I try to stretch my body to see where it's coming from. I can't see much, but I know the one thing I'm dreading is true. The warehouse is on fire.

I yank on my wrist desperately and reach for the knot with my free hand. Absolute terror makes my fingers fumble uselessly. I glance back at the fire to make sure it hasn't spread closer and try again. I can't get the knot out. I know I can't, but in a moment of panic, you try to do anything you can do. So what do I do next? I try to break the frame. I think, quite stupidly, that if I pull harder on my hand, it could create enough force to break the frame. As you may imagine, it doesn't.

I start yelling. Maybe a Soc is close and will hear me. Or maybe someone is out there… somewhere. I pull on my hand again. It burns, but I can't pay much attention to it. The fire is closer now. So close that I can feel the heat of it. I yell again, but smoke fills my lungs and sends me into a fit of coughing.

I know I said I wanted to die, but I don't want to burn to death.

The smoke is thick and I feel like I'm in Windrixville all over again, racing through the fire to save those kids stuck inside the church. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we had been there and I hadn't accidentally set the place on fire before. What would have happened if the kids had seen us sleeping there or came in on us playing cards or something? Would we have been turned in? Sent to the cooler?

I feel a flame lick my leg and scream. I'm going to catch on fire. I'm about to be engulfed in it and there's nothing I can do. I close my eyes tightly as pain radiates through my leg. I yank my hand. I can't die like this. I can't.

But just as soon as it starts, it's over again. The heat is gone. There's nothing but the silence that was there before. I open my eyes carefully.

The warehouse isn't on fire. Looking around, I discover it never was. I'm delirious. I can't tell what's real anymore. The only thing I know is that I'm having hallucinations and I think it's a good sign that I'm at least aware of that.

Still, I can't stop the tears that start falling from my eyes. The pain I felt from the "fire" was really just me pulling on my broken leg. It's still throbbing. I just want to go home or be killed already. Just…not by fire. Maybe anything but fire.

XxX

"Where's Two-Bit?" I asked later as we put away the groceries. "I haven't seen much of him lately."

"He's been out looking," Sodapop said distractedly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'."

I raised my eyebrows. I didn't like this sassy Sodapop very much. I understood that he was upset, but the attitude wasn't something I was used to from him. I bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him. I had been feeling on edge, too. I knew I shouldn't blame Sodapop for his attitude while mine was boiling inside me, getting ready to explode.

Life without Ponyboy wasn't something I thought I would ever have to get used to.

It killed me. Not just because he was gone, but because we didn't know if he was alive or dead. That's what made it the hardest. Wanting to have hope, but feeling so defeated. Thinking maybe he's alive and maybe he'll come back. That desire was so strong that it almost destroyed us. We needed closure, and there was only one way we could get it.

There were times, and it kills me to admit this, that I just wished Ponyboy _was_ dead. I was terrified at the thought that he was suffering somewhere. Images of him being tortured somewhere would flash into my mind from time to time. Him starving, being hurt…I prayed to God that he was dead instead of suffering through that. I know it sounds harsh and like I should have prayed for him to be back home, but believe me, I did pray for that, too. It's just…wouldn't you want someone freed from life if they were suffering?

"Darry!"

I glanced at Sodapop as the front door slammed shut. We both turned as Two-Bit rushed into the kitchen.

"You need to help! Steve's gonna get thrown in the cooler!"

"What?" Sodapop cried. "Why?"

"He's about to pound some Soc's face in! I can't get him to stop!" Two-Bit grabbed my arm and started pulling me forward. "The cops are on their way. We need to get him away from the lot."

I nodded and hurried along with Two-Bit, Sodapop following behind. We ran as fast as we could. Two-Bit hadn't been lying. When we got to the lot, Steve was on top of a Soc, his arm raised as if to punch the guy in the face. Looking at the Soc, Steve had already done enough damage. His face was bloody and starting to swell.

I leapt forward and grabbed Steve, yanking him off the guy. I wasn't going to bother trying to instill some sense of reason with him. I just needed to get him away.

"Let me go!" Steve screamed, struggling to launch himself on the Soc again. "I'm gonna kill that bastard!"

"Darry!" Two-Bit called in warning. I could hear the sirens, too.

"Randle, knock it off!" I yelled, pulling him off his feet and dragging him backwards. "Do you wanna end up in jail?"

"Let go of me!" Steve cried again.

I ignored him. Sodapop and Two-Bit got on either side of me and helped restrain him while we dragged him away. Once we were far enough, I let go of him.

"Sodapop, take Steve back to the house and let him cool off."

Sodapop nodded and slung an arm around Steve's shoulders, leading him towards the house. I started back towards the lot, Two-Bit beside me.

"What're you doing?" Two-Bit asked.

"Making sure that Soc ain't dead," I said. "Why was Steve pounding the tar out of him anyway?"

Two-Bit shook his head. "Said something about him knowing where Ponyboy was."

"He thinks every Soc knows where Ponyboy is," I sighed.

"That's cause they probably do."

"I highly doubt that," I muttered as I kneeled down next to the injured Soc. He was breathing, that much I could tell. I shook his shoulder to see if he was awake. "Hey, you alive?"

The Soc's eyes fluttered opened and he looked at me painfully. "Y-you…"

I raised my eyebrows. I felt a twang of sympathy for him. He must have been around sixteen or so. He reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out something.

"A-are y-you Darrel Curtis?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said slowly. The sirens were too close. Two-Bit and I needed to get out of there. The Soc handed me what was in his hand. It was a note.

"Someone gave that to me to give to you," He muttered, letting out a groan. Two-Bit yanked on my arm. I got to my feet quickly.

"Someone will come help you," I told the Soc. He nodded and we took off at a run. It had been too close for my preference. Getting thrown in jail certainly wouldn't have helped anything, especially if I still wanted to keep Sodapop under my guardianship.

Two-Bit and I stopped to catch our breath once we were closer to the house. I remembered the note crushed in my hand and peeled it open, reading the unfamiliar scrawl.

"What's it say?" Two-Bit asked, leaning over me to read it. I couldn't speak. I heard the breath leave Two-Bit as well as I read the note over again.

**If you want your brother, go to the warehouse by Anderson.**


	10. Chapter 10

**So...many...reviews...It's so awesome! Thank you guys so much!**

**Hope you enjoy!  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

"Darry?" Two-Bit asked breathlessly after a few moments of silence. "What…what do we do?"

I shook my head numbly. "I don't know."

"What if it's a trap?"

I sighed. "Then I guess I'll fall for it."

"I'm going with you," Two-Bit said sternly.

"I don't think so. If this _is_ a trap, I don't wanna endanger anyone else."

"Well that sucks for you." Two-Bit shrugged. "Cause I'm going. You can't stop me. I already know the location."

I ran a hand over my face. "Fine. But you are _not_ telling Steve or Sodapop. Sodapop especially. I don't need him getting into any kind of trouble and Steve's got a hot tempter. It's bad enough that you know, but no one else is going to. Got it?"

"Sure, Dar. Now let's go check it out!"

"Hang on," I said. I stopped for a moment to think, pushing my hands into my eyes. I knew I should have been running, or getting into my truck and speeding like crazy, but I couldn't make myself move. My body felt slow. It was too suspicious. I also knew I probably should have called the cops and had them go check it out, but my brain wasn't thinking like that, so I lowered my hands and turned to face Two-Bit.

"Go tell Sodapop that you and I are heading out to talk to someone about if there's any new information on Ponyboy."

"Are we?" Two-Bit asked in confusion.

"No, Two-Bit," I said through clenched teeth. "Go run inside and tell him and then get out here. I'll start the truck."

"No," Two-Bit said suddenly. "Let's take my car."

"Why?"

"It'll be better, trust me."

"Is it even fixed?" I asked. Two-Bit nodded and I let out a sigh. "Fine. We still gotta drive to your house, so hurry up."

Two-Bit nodded and ran the rest of the way back to the house. I followed along after at a much slower pace. What the hell were we doing?

XxXxX

I let out another deep breath and close my eyes against the tears that haven't stopped falling for a long time. I wonder what's happening in the real world, if it still exists. What is Darry doing right now? And Sodapop? And the rest of the gang? Are they sitting down for dinner? Still at work? Maybe Sodapop is flirting with some pretty Soc girl. Maybe Two-Bit is eating all our chocolate cake, watching Mickey Mouse on the couch.

I wonder how long it's been since I was home, too. How long has it been since Two-Bit and Steve beat up that Soc? Or since the night that Soc came dressed as a cop? But you know what the one question that confuses me the most is? Why aren't I dead yet?

In everything I've read or seen, when someone is kidnapped or tor- when someone is kidnapped or hurt, they are usually so weak and on the brink of death after a certain amount of days. Even though I have no real sense of time, I know I've been here longer than the people in those stories. So why am I different? Why aren't I dying? Is death too good to grace my poor pathetic soul? Or am I meant to just suffer forever? It's like…it's like being in extreme pain and waiting to pass out from it, but you never lose consciousness. You just face the unbearable pain until someone can make it go away.

I fear that no one will ever make it go away for me.

"To his brother?" I hear a voice say from the door of the warehouse.

"Yeah, the oldest one," someone else replies.

"When did he give it to him?"

"A few hours ago, I think."

"Great." I can't tell whether the voice is sarcastic or not, but I realize after a moment that one voice is Jay. I roll my head slightly and watch in weary as he and a bunch of other Socs I didn't know where there approach. My eyes burn with tiredness. I wish I could sleep forever.

"D-do," I say suddenly, my throat aching. "Do you think I will?"

Jay looks at me curiously. "Are you hallucinating again?"

I shake my head. "Do you?"

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Jay asks, holding up his hand. I roll my eyes.

"Three." The answer satisfies him, so I ask again. "Do you?

"Do I what?"

"Think I'll die," I whisper. Both he and the Soc next to him look at me with funny expressions. The others stay still, standing back a few feet away from us. Before he can even answer, I start again. "Why're you doing it?"

"Doing…what?"

"Caring," I say thickly. "Why don't you just kill me, Jay? Why have you kept me alive?"

"Ponyboy-"

"Why, Jay?" I release how pathetic I sound, but I don't stop. My voice is hinting desperation and I severely sound like I'm losing all sounds in my vocal chords. "Why am I alive still?"

"You were never supposed to die," Jay says.

"But I am," I say. "Dying." I don't know why I say it. It just kind of sounds like something someone in a story would say. It's Jay's response that surprises me, though. He looks at me with something that almost mimics compassion. It makes my reality real.

"I know."

XxXxX

Two-Bit and I parked down the street and walked. There was no real place to park that was close to the warehouse. We decided to go the back way around as we walked so no one would spot us. Ponyboy's backpack had been found not far from there. It seemed like so long ago.

"Wasn't this place searched?" Two-Bit asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah, it was."

"I don't like this," Two-Bit said carefully. "Not one bit."

"Me either."

But we still walked closer. As we approached, I could faintly hear voices talking. What this a trick? I certainly wasn't going to just walk inside that warehouse, and I wasn't gong to let Two-Bit either. We needed something, like a plan…or proof.

"Look for a window or crack or something," I said quietly. "Let's see what we can hear."

He nodded and we split off, looking over the back and sides of the place. Two-Bit had found a hole- not one large enough to see anything, but it gave him better sound. He pressed his ear against it as I walked over and joined him.

"What do you hear?" I asked.

"Talking," He muttered.

"What're they saying?"

"I can't tell. Do you speak gibberish?"

"Two-Bit," I sighed.

He shrugged. "I was just kidding."

"Be serious. What're they talking about? Who's talking?"

"Hold on," He said.

I waited for what felt like hours. Then something happened, and a few things went off at the same time. Two-Bit whispered in shock, "Ponyboy," and then suddenly, before I realized what I was doing, Two-Bit knocked me hard across the chest and sent me stumbling back. He shoved me to the ground, knowing what I was about to do. I needed to get in there.

I scrambled to my feet and made to rush towards the door, but Two-Bit grabbed me and yanked me back.

"Darry, no!"

I tried to push him off, but something took over him. This…this strength that I never knew he had. He shoved me back against a tree and got close to my face.

"Darry, listen to me!" He cried. "Please!"

I stopped struggling against him, but had no desire to sit and chat. "We need to get in there! What're you doing, Two-Bit?!"

"Listen!" He said again, holding me tight. "We can't just rush in there. Judging by what I've heard, there's at least five Socs in there."

"So?" I growl. "I can take them all."

"Darry!" Two-Bit shook me, desperation in his voice. "They could have heaters or blades. We don't know how armed they are."

"I don't care, Two-Bit! Ponyboy is in there!"

"That's just it, Darry!" I could feel him digging his fingers into my shoulders. I looked into his eyes. He was nearing tears, trying to make me understand. "If we barge in there, they could _hurt_ Ponyboy."

Those words took all the fight out of me. Two-Bit was right. Ponyboy was their hostage and if we charged in there to save him, they could easily hurt him to make us stop. They could kill Ponyboy, and it would be all my fault.

I blinked back my own tears. In a whisper, I asked Two-Bit, "What do we do then?"

He let go of me and it took all my power not to collapse down to the ground. I couldn't let my legs give out on me yet. I wasn't weak. I could do this.

Two-Bit rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh. "I think…we wait."

"Wait?" I asked.

He nodded. "We wait till they leave. Stake out here and the moment they're gone, we go in and get Ponyboy out."

I glanced at the warehouse, feeling a scream creeping up in my throat. I closed my mouth tight and nodded. I could wait.

I didn't want to, but I could.

* * *

><p>.<strong><br>**

**A/N: how long do you think Ponyboy's been missing? The person who guesses the closest will win the satisfaction of being the person who guessed the closest :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**Real quick...I AM working on The Days That Changed Everything, so don't worry :)**

**Second, someone actually guessed the exact amount of time Ponyboy has been gone! Congrats to you! You have to read to find out if it was you who was right though :)  
><strong>

**Third, it's my birthday :D Just wanted to let you guys know cause I'm excited, haha  
><strong>

**And last, this chapter is quite long, but it's my favorite. You all should have noticed that Ponyboy speaks in present tense and Darry and Sodapop are in past tense. BUT, Darry is about to clash into Ponyboy's timeline and right when he steps into Ponyboy's world, his narration changes to be the same as Ponyboy's. I was really excited to write this part because you literally get to watch him step right into the present tense situation.  
><strong>

**Anywayyyyy.. Thanks SO much for all the reviews. Glad you guys are liking this!  
><strong>

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

I wake up groggy, not remembering when I fell asleep. There are two things I notice almost immediately; first, my free hand is now tied up again, allowing me to barely move. I can feel claustrophobia creeping in my bones. And second, there's something in my mouth, blocking me from speaking. I can see the edges of it wrapped back around my head.

I try to open my mouth wider and test the efficiency of it, but I can't speak. It has done it's job. Turning my head to the side, I'm surprised to see Jay. He's sitting on the ground next to the mattress, watching me. I want to ask what he's doing, but all I can do is moan wearily and hope he understands my distress.

"I know, kid," he says, his voice oddly gentle. "I ain't a fan of it either."

I scoff. I can still make _that _sound.

"You were screaming again in your sleep. Thought you were gonna bite your tongue off."

I turn away from him and look up at my bound hand, pulling on it weakly. I can feel him watching me silently. I yank harder and feel the rope tighten. I stop in horror.

"Did you figure it out?" Jay asks. I ignore him and pull on it again. This time he laughs and gets up.

"That's a slipknot, Ponyboy. It's only gonna get tighter if you keep pulling on it."

Jay kneels down by my hand and pulls on the knot, allowing blood back into my fingers. I sigh in relief.

"I ain't a fan of _that_ either," he mutters. "In all fairness, I wasn't here when they did the slipknot. They like to experiment."

_Boy Scouts 101_, I think wearily to myself. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I try to imagine I'm somewhere with lots of room. Somewhere where the air is light. I can't figure out why I feel so tired now, though. It makes it hard to imagine anything. Maybe I really am dying.

"Kid?"

"Hmm?" I hum to let him know I can hear him. There's nothing else I can do.

"This is gonna end one of two ways," Jay says. "But either way, it'll be over soon."

I force my eyes open and look at him in confusion. Across his face, I can see the apology he's terrified of saying out loud. Socs don't apologize. Not on their own will. But here he was, proving to me that some Socs do feel regret. Remorse. The look on his face says it all.

It's the last thing I remember, along with the feeling of him cutting the rope around my wrist, before slipping away into darkness.

XxXxX

"Darry!" A voice hissed as someone shook me out of the sleep I wasn't aware I had fallen into. I sat up quickly and looked around. I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, but it was clearly early morning. If I had to guess, I'd say around eight or nine- -not that it really mattered. What mattered was the fact that somehow Two-Bit and I had fallen asleep.

"How long was I sleeping?" I asked.

"I dunno," Two-Bit said. "I was sleeping, too. But I think the Socs have cleared out."

I scrambled to my feet quickly. "Let's go."

Two-Bit and I proceeded cautiously, sneaking around the side of the building. Inside, my heart was pounding so loud in my ears that I was afraid Two-Bit could hear it. What would happen when we found Ponyboy? Would he be alive? How would I handle it if he wasn't? What if he wasn't even in there anymore? Or never had been at all? What kind of condition would he be in?

"C'mon," Two-Bit whispered, leading me towards the door. He slowly and carefully opened it, peaking inside before motioning me forward. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst, and stepped inside...

We look around the large cluttered space for only a second before I spot the person we came here for. He's lying on an old mattress near the wall, his eyes closed. There's a white cloth like object wrapped around his mouth and it's tainted with a copper color. His hands and feet are bound to the frame on either side of him so that he's forming an "X"; though in my brief glance, I notice he has managed to get his left hand free because it's lying next to him instead of pulled up, the rope still around his wrist. He's covered in bruises and dried blood, his fingers are tinted a bluish purple color, and I'm horrified. Mortified.

Destroyed.

"Ponyboy!" We run to him and I drop to my knees, sticking my fingers on his neck to feel for a pulse. _Oh God Oh God Oh God._

He's alive.

"Pony, can you hear me?"

He doesn't move. I cup his face in my hands.

"Ponyboy?" Nothing.

I let go of him. I feel like throwing up. I pull my blade from my pocket with shaky hands and flip it open to cut through the rope on his wrist. Two-Bit is already a step ahead of me, but the moment he grabs the rope binding Ponyboy's foot, Ponyboy starts screaming.

"NO!" Even through his gag, the word is loud and clear. The scream is heart shattering. He pulls on his hand, forcing me to drop the knife so I don't cut him.

"Ponyboy, Ponyboy!" I urge gently, "Calm down. It's me. It's Darry."

His muffled cries continue as though he doesn't hear me.

"Hang on, Pone," I say while finding the knot in the cloth. I get it and undo it quickly, freeing his mouth.

"Please," He moans, his eyes shut tight. "Please don't touch it."

His voice is hoarse and raw. It makes my own throat hurt. I look at Two-Bit, who appears horrified. He has his hands up and away from the rope.

"Darry," He breathes, "His leg…it ain't right."

I go to question him, but it's Ponyboy who speaks next.

"It's broken," He says, swallowing back sobs. Desperation overcomes his weak voice and I can tell he's been screaming. A lot. "Please…don't touch it."

"I ain't gonna touch it, Pone," Two-Bit says gently. He meets my eyes with a look I've never seen in him before. Ponyboy is breathing hard. His face is pulled in pain and I run a hand through his hair in the only comforting motion I know.

"I'm gonna cut your hand free, okay?" I ask. He nods, but I'm desperate to see his eyes. To know he's actually all right. I pick up my knife again and saw through the rope. When I'm finished, I quickly slide the knife back into my pocket before grabbing him and pulling him up into a hug. It's probably not smart on my end since I don't know how injured he is. He lets out a moan, but rests his head on my shoulder. He's weak.

"I can feel you," He whispers.

"What?" I ask in confusion.

"I've never felt a hallucination." He lets out a dry cough. "You guys never touch me."

"Pone, we ain't-"

"Darry," Two-Bit interrupts me with a worried voice. "We gotta get him out of here. I ain't itching for an outnumbered fight."

I nod. "What about his foot?" I ask. He contemplates for a moment.

"I'll cut at the base," He says. "Is that okay, Ponyboy?"

Ponyboy nods wearily. Two-Bit works carefully to cut through the rope without hurting him, but it still jars his foot a few times, making him yelp. When he's finally free, I scoop him up in my arms and stand. He loops his arms around my neck to steady himself and I notice blood running down his wrists. I don't have time to worry about it though. We're running out the door.

Ponyboy flinches against the sunlight outside. I wonder if he's been in that dark warehouse this entire time. We make sure the coast is clear before figuring out which way is faster to the car. Ponyboy turns his face into my chest to shield his eyes, but it doesn't take long for him to get used to the brightness.

We start off again, dodging our way through trees. Every step I take seems to agitate Ponyboy's foot and overall condition. He winces, but either doesn't notice it that much, or is just used to the pain. I can feel his fingers moving behind my neck and assume he's just too focused on whatever he's doing as we make our way out of the woods and hurry down the street. In fact, I have no idea what he's doing. At first I assume he's flexing his fingers to get feeling into them, but I know I'm wrong. He's distinctly trying to do something else.

But suddenly his fingers stop and dig weakly into my shoulder.

"Darry," He whispers, his voice turning more urgent. "Stop."

"What?"

"Stop!" He cries out desperately. I come screeching to a halt, not wanting to continue if I'm hurting Ponyboy in some way. Two-Bit stops next to me, concern written on his face.

"I need down," Ponyboy says. He sounds a bit out of it, which doesn't surprise me. It does worry me, though.

"Pone, you can't-"

"Darry!" He whines. I give in to him and try to gently set him on his feet, keeping a hold of him for support. I know he can't stand on his broken foot, but what I don't know is that he actually can't stand at all. The moment his good leg hits the ground, he collapses, right out of my arms, and onto the pavement.

Two-Bit and I drop down nearly as fast as he does. "Ponyboy."

He leans forward onto his hands and without any warning begins to throw up over the side of the curb. I put a hand on his back and will myself not to cry. Not now. Not when Ponyboy needs me. He moans in pain as his body heaves and bile comes up from his throat. I'm surprised there's actually something in him to throw up.

When he's done, he moans again. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and then bursts into tears.

"Pone," I say gently, pushing his hair back from his face. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He shakily puts his arms around my neck without a word and I scoop him up carefully and stand.

We make it to Two-Bit's car in record time. He goes to drive, and I sit in the back with Ponyboy, having him lay across the seat. It's hard to get him to fit without hurting his leg, so I stay by his feet and help keep it braced. As his eyes start to dry, his hand starts moving again and I realize what he was trying to do earlier. He still has rope wrapped around his wrist. He was trying to get it off.

I pull out my blade and motion for him to extend his arm out. When he does, I carefully cut through the rope. Once I get it off, Two-Bit takes it as his cue to start driving.

"Flex your fingers," I tell Ponyboy. "Try to get some blood flowing through them." He does as he's told without a word. I can tell it's hard for him to get his fingers to do what he wants them to.

It's the most intense car ride of my life. I find myself constantly checking to make sure he's still breathing. I don't know why. He's coherent, but he looks so injured and battered that I can't help it.

"Dar?" He asks quietly just a few minutes after we've started moving. "Do you have anything to drink?"

I look around Two-Bit's car, but don't see anything. "Don't think so, kiddo."

"Can we stop?"

"Pone, we really gotta get you to the hospital."

"Please, Darry?" He begs. "I just need some water."

The sound of his raw voice makes my heart hurt and I can't help but to give him what he wants. He's been missing for three weeks. If all he wants is water then I can give it to him. Besides, who knew when the last time he had anything to drink was.

"Two-Bit, can you stop at a store?" I ask.

"Yeah, Dar," He says. "Hang on."

We take a sharp turn and pull into a gas station. Two-Bit jumps out of the car and yells something to someone as he closes the door.

"Soda," Ponyboy says. I give him a confused look, wondering if he's delirious, but then I understand. We pulled into the DX. The backdoor is yanked open and Sodapop is there, dropping to his knees. He pulls Ponyboy into a crushing hug.

"Oh, Ponyboy," He cries, letting out a relieved sob. Two-Bit is back, climbing into his seat and leaning over to hand me the water bottle.

"Get in," He tells Sodapop. "Steve is clocking you guys out. He's gonna meet us at the hospital."

Sodapop closes the door.

"Could you feel him, too?" I ask Ponyboy quietly while Soda gets in the front. He nods. I know that he knows what I'm trying to imply. As we start driving again, I unscrew the top of the water bottle and hand it to Ponyboy.

"Did you buy this?" Ponyboy asks. Sodapop turns back in his seat to look at him, hearing his destroyed voice for the first time. I can see the light in his eyes spark up again.

"Nah, kid," Two-Bit says as though he's intending to joke, but his voice is too serious. Ponyboy takes a long drink before he speaks again.

"Figures." There's a smile pulling on the sides of his mouth and why he finds Two-Bit stealing a water bottle funny, I'm not sure. But he's smiling. Sodapop sees it, as does Two-Bit, who is glancing in the rear view mirror. Ponyboy starts drinking again though, not noticing us.

It's about the same time as he moans that I notice Two-Bit is driving like a maniac. I have to ignore it for the moment, because Ponyboy is my concern. He has his hand on his forehead and his eyes are closed.

"Ponyboy, what is it?" I ask quickly.

"I think…" He swallows hard. "I'm gonna be sick."

Two-Bit puts his foot on the gas in an attempt to get us there faster and I snap at him. "Two-Bit! Don't drive faster! That's what's making him sick."

Two-Bit swears and slows down. "Sorry."

Sodapop is turned around in his seat and leaning back to look at Ponyboy. I can see tears still in his eyes and his face is a mask of concern. Ponyboy moans again and leans his head against the window.

"Ponyboy, if you need to puke, you can puke," Two-Bit says, glancing back at him again.

Ponyboy shakes his head though, taking deep breaths. "Don't wanna puke in your car."

"It's okay, Pone. Really," Two-Bit says gently. "I can clean it up."

He doesn't say anything in response. I know he's not gonna throw up in Two-Bit's car on his own will. He would feel awful about it.

He goes to take another drink of water, and as much as it _kills_ me, I pull the bottle down from his mouth.

"You'll make yourself sick if you keep drinking," I say. He nods and gives me the bottle, closing his eyes again. He rests his arm against the door and lays his head on it. It doesn't look comfortable to me, and for some reason, I desperately don't want him to fall asleep. Two-Bit has the same feeling, too, and voices his concern.

"Hey Pone," He calls from the front. "Don't go to sleep just yet, all right? Keep your eyes open."

I'm glad he says it, because I wouldn't have. I remember that sleeping with a head injury is dangerous. I have no idea what Ponyboy has been through. If he has some serious head trauma that we don't know about, he could slip into a coma. I would never forgive myself.

"'Kay," Ponyboy says tiredly. "But I didn't get hit in the head, you know."

"Yeah, Pone," Two-Bit says easily. "I know."

Suddenly Two-Bit comes to a quick stop, the car in front of us having slammed on their breaks. Ponyboy shoves his hand into the back of Sodapop's seat to keep himself from falling and then lets out a chain of swear words, bringing his hand back and holding it to his chest. Two-Bit looks back frantically as Ponyboy starts to cry again.

"Aw hell, Pone," He moans. "Are you all right? I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine," Ponyboy wipes at his tears, shuddering. "It was already hurt."

It's not fine, though. And everyone knows that. Two-Bit looks miserable as he starts driving again, but Ponyboy looks worse. We hit a bump in the road that makes his foot smack into the door. He yelps and I know he has to be aching behind belief. He buries his face into his good arm, which is still resting against the door, and soon his crying turns to sobs. It breaks my heart, but somehow it doesn't shock me. He had been too calm and collected throughout all this. Let's be real, Ponyboy _not _crying after all he's been through would be unrealistic.

Sodapop is leaning back towards him, but he's afraid to touch him. Instead, he talks in a gentle voice. "It's okay, Pone. We're almost there. It's okay. You'll be okay."

I don't know if Ponyboy is actually listening. I can't say anything. I can't tell him it's okay, that he'll be fine, to take it easy. He has to be in unimaginable pain, which would therefore make any of those things I'd say not true. If he wants to cry, then by God I'm not going to tell him to calm down. It wouldn't be fair.

I can hear Two-Bit mumbling curses under his breath. I rub Ponyboy's good leg gently, trying somehow to give him some kind of comfort. I can't see his face, but his body is shaking when we finally pull up to the hospital. I put a hand on the back of his head and rub his hair.

"We're here, kiddo."

He swallows hard and brings his head up. "I wanna go home."

"I know," I say gently, opening my door. Two-Bit and Sodapop get out quickly. "But we have to get you checked out first."

He lets out another sob as big tears splash down his face. "I wanna go home, Darry."

I get out and move around to the other side of the car, opening his door. I kneel down and gently turn his face towards me. "We'll go home. I promise. We need to get your leg fixed first, though. You gotta let the doctors make sure nothing else is too bad. Can you do that, Pone? Can you be strong for me?"

He sniffs back another sob and nods. When he speaks, he sounds like he's choking. "I j-just wanna go h-home, though."

I cup the side of his head in my hand and pull him to my chest, holding him gently. "I know. I know."

With his content, I pull him carefully from the car and carry him again like before. He loops his arms around my neck and we all race into the emergency room. Nurses are waiting for us. Apparently, Steve has called ahead. I lay my distraught little brother down on the stretcher they have brought out and then run along side it as they race him back through the halls.

Sodapop keeps a hold of his hand, reminding him he's still there. I know it helps ease Ponyboy a little bit. But not even a minute later, we reach the end of our limit and can't go any further. They need to take Ponyboy into an examining room and we have to let him go.

"Darry," He says thickly.

"You'll be okay. They're gonna check you out and we'll be right here in the waiting room."

"We really must take him in now," A nurse says. I nod and look towards Sodapop. He squeezes Ponyboy's hand and leans forward, muttering something softly to him. I can't make it out, but Ponyboy nods. Sodapop kisses him on the forehead and releases his hand, and then they start pushing him away.

When he's finally through the doors and out of ear shot, Sodapop bursts into tears. I grab him quickly and pull him close. I don't fight it this time. I just cry along with him.


	12. Chapter 12

**I am so sorry for the wait on all of my stories. I really lost my muse with writing and it took a while to get back. Even so, I really don't like this chapter. It's kind of boring and lame. But it's transitional and I need it to help us get Ponyboy back home. **

**The reviews you guys left were incredible! I hope you won't leave the story now that Ponyboy has been found. The next chapters won't be as boring as this one. But if you do decide to stop reading, thanks for checking it out so far :)  
><strong>

**Enjoy (and thanks for all the birthday wishes!)  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

The waiting room is nearly empty. There's three other people inside, but they don't look at us. They've got problems of their own.

I've been pacing back and forth since they took Ponyboy away. Steve arrived not too long after and made a scene, demanding to know what had happened and if the Socs were caught. Soda had pulled him into a corner to quiet him down.

Two-Bit has his head in his hands and he's sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs that fill up the small room. It looks like he might rip his hair out, but he hasn't yet.

"Over there," the lady at the front desk says, catching my attention. I turn as a nurse hurries my way.

"Darrel?" She asks.

"Yes," I say quickly.

She pushes a clipboard towards me. "We need you to sign a content form. We have to break Ponyboy's leg and realign it."

"What?" I ask in confusion, taking the board from her. The words on the paper blur together. I'm faintly aware Two-Bit is standing beside me.

"Ponyboy's injured leg started to heal wrong," she says. "We have to break it again and realign it so it will heal correctly."

"I…"

"Darry," Two-Bit says sharply, quietly. It snaps me back to reality.

I take the pen off the top and sign quickly without reading it. "Will it hurt him?"

I hand her back the board and she shakes her head, checking the signature. "No, he'll be under. We need you to sign a few other things as well."

I numbly sign where she tells me, unaware of what I'm really agreeing to. I don't care, though. If it makes Ponyboy better, I'll sign anything.

She thanks me and moves to hurry off again, but I stop her.

"Wait." I can hear the panic in my voice and try to calm myself.

"Yes?"

"Is he…is he okay?"

"I really don't know much about his condition," she says sympathetically, but I know she's in a hurry. "I'm sorry."

I nod and let her go. It's that moment that Sodapop realizes she was there at all and he and Steve come over.

"Darry?" Soda asks. "Did something happen?"

I sink down in a chair and run my hands over my face. Two-Bit picks up the conversation for me. I don't know what it is about him lately, but he seems to get it. To get me. To understand what I'm feeling.

"Ponyboy's broken leg started healing wrong, so they gotta break it again and realign it," Two-Bit says.

"Aw, Pone," Sodapop says miserably, paling. "Did they said how he was?"

I shake my head. "She didn't know."

"Where'd you find him, anyway?" Steve asks suddenly.

"Yeah, where _did_ you find him?" Sodapop wonders. "And how?"

I sigh deeply. "Remember that Soc Steve was beating the tar out of in the lot?"

They both nod, so I continue on. "He gave me a note that said if I wanted Ponyboy, I needed to go to the warehouse by Anderson."

"That's where he was?" Steve asks.

"Yeah. Two-Bit and I staked it out and waited until the Socs left before we went in and got him."

Sodapop wrings his hands together nervously. "What'd he say? When you found him?"

"He wasn't awake at first, little buddy," I say, trying to keep the details out of it.

Steve glares. "What did they do to him?"

I don't say anything. This time, Two-Bit doesn't pick up the silence I leave behind. He sits down next to me and holds his head in his hands again. I know what he's thinking. I'm thinking it, too.

Sodapop bites his lip. "Darry? What did they-"

"Pepsi Cola," I cut him off. "Trust me, you don't wanna know."

Sodapop closes his mouth and nods. It's the nickname that lets him know I'm serious. Sodapop trusts me. He knows if I wanted to tell him, I would.

XxX

It's hours before someone comes out again to talk to us. Sodapop grew restless long ago and has taken turns walking around the hospital with both Steve and Two-Bit. I stay put, in case someone has any news. But even after Sodapop returns, it still feels like forever until a man in a white coat steps into the waiting room.

The lady at the front desk points him my way and I'm on my feet before he gets here.

"Are you Darrel?" The doctor asks. I nod, too anxious to speak. He looks at his clipboard and then back up to me. "I'm Doctor Neale. Well, Ponyboy is doing okay right now. We understand your situation and request to take Ponyboy home, so we're going to have a doctor come and make some house visits to check on him."

"Okay," I say, waiting for him to go on. Sodapop and I had agreed we wanted Ponyboy home with us and not at the hospital if it was possible.

"Luckily, you got him to us just in time. As far as his injuries, nothing is too severe. His broken leg was the worst of it. He's got some heavy bruising, and a few cuts and scrapes. He sprained one of his wrists, but everything should heal up nicely. We're a bit concerned with his dehydration and malnutrition, but we've got him on an IV right now to get him some fluids. He'll need to stay here over night while we get some nutrients into him and make sure he's stable."

"But he'll be okay?" Sodapop asks, making me wonder how long he's been standing beside me.

"Yes, but he's gonna need some time. Ponyboy's body is exhausted and took quite a hit, both physically and mentally. From what he's told me and what we can see, he went through a lot of stuff while he was gone. In all honesty, with the stress of the situation, if he had been there much longer he probably wouldn't have survived it. He's a tough kid."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "He is."

The doctor smiles and continues on. "Now, he's gonna be sleeping quite a bit once you get him home. He needs all the rest he can get. You boys just need to make him as comfortable as possible. We're putting him on a medication that will make him sleep as well, just to be safe."

The doctor pulls a piece of paper off the board and hands it to me. "This is a list of things we're gonna have you do at home for Ponyboy. The nurse has some other papers for you about his medications and everything else you'll need. We'll see Ponyboy back here in a few weeks to check on his leg. You boys can go in and sit with him now."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, shaking his hand. He gives us a smile and points us in the direction of where we need to go.

Two-Bit and Steve follow behind us. Ponyboy's in the ICU so they can keep an eye on him. I know it's best, but when I see the sign that leads us into the pediatric ward, I feel my heart seize. Ponyboy's just a child. As much as he hates me treating him like one, he is. And it isn't fair. Isn't fair that my little brother is in the ICU, being watched over because he had been kidnapped and abused.

I shake the thought from my head. Now's not the time to think about what's fair.

We get to Ponyboy's room and I quietly open the door. We pile into the small space that's already filled with two other people. Nurses. After a moment of shuffling around, I see my brother. He appears to be asleep. He's lying on his back with his head turned to the side and his arm outstretched. There's a nurse taking blood from that arm. His other one has an IV in it, connected to a bag of liquid above him.

In this light, I finally see how terrible he looks. His face is incredibly pale- - unnaturally pale. There are dark circles under his eyes and he looks thinner. He has bandages around both his wrists, but on the one that is extended out, the bandage goes halfway up his arm. I assume it's the one that is sprained. His leg is in a cast and being elevated at the end of the bed, but despite all of that, he actually looks…peaceful. Like someone who finally gets to sleep after having been kept up and kept busy for a long time.

"All right," a nurse says, impatient. "There are too many people in here. Immediate family only."

"We're all his family," Two-Bit says. I nod in agreement.

The nurse scans over us and sighs. "Then two of you need to step outside until we finish getting him set up."

"We will," Steve says, grabbing Two-Bit's arm. "Call us in when he's ready, okay?"

"Thanks, Steve," I say, watching him yank Two-Bit out of the room.

Sodapop is hovering around the nurses, watching with wide eyes as one of them lifts Ponyboy's arm up. I want to tell him to back up and give them space, but I can't. His eyes remind me of Johnny's.

"What're you doing?" Soda asks one of the nurses nervously.

"Sodapop," I chide. The nurse smiles.

"It's okay. I'm just gonna finish wrapping his wrist."

Sodapop swallows and nods, stepping away from Ponyboy to give the nurse more room. I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and we watch her silently.

Ponyboy doesn't move throughout it. It worries me, because Ponyboy is very sensitive to touch, and I end up asking the nurse if something is wrong with him- - despite the obvious.

"He's fine. He's on a few medications right now to make him sleep through the night."

"He'll wake up, won't he?" Sodapop asks.

"Of course. We just need to give his body a rest because he's exhausted. He'll be just fine," she says, grabbing Ponyboy's chart from the other nurse and writing something down. "We'll give him something to wake him up when we release him if he's still sleeping. That way you'll be able to take him home. We should be able to let him go tomorrow if everything is good."

The nurses stay for a few more minutes to check everything before they finally file out of the room, leaving us alone. I don't go out and get Steve and Two-Bit.

Something inside me freezes. Or breaks. I don't know. I finally realize that my little brother is safe and back with us. I try to tell myself everything before now doesn't matter, but in the silence, I can almost hear Ponyboy screaming the way he did when Two-Bit jarred his broken foot.

Sodapop stands at the railing of his bed and he looks like he's gonna start crying again.

"You okay, little buddy?" I ask.

He nods, but it doesn't stop the tears from falling. "He's really here, Darry. He's alive."

"I know, kiddo," I say gently, squeezing his shoulder again. He gives me a watery smile and wipes at his eyes.

"It's finally over," he whispers.

I look at Ponyboy's motionless form and sigh to myself. I know it's not over. In fact, it's really just beginning.


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is cut a little short cause I didn't want it to get too boring. Drama will pick up next chapter. Added a little cute Sodapop moment at the end of this one to make it better, haha. **

**Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry I didn't respond this time! I certainly read them all though. You guys are incredible.  
><strong>

**Enjoy!**

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

Ponyboy sleeps through the night, but Sodapop and I don't. In fact, none of us do.

It's too loud in the hospital for me to sleep, and I'm too anxious. Sodapop drifts off at one point, but he's woken by the nurses who come in every four hours or so. It's annoying how often they come in to poke and prod my little brother. It gets to the point where I find some excuse to leave the room instead of watch them anymore. I think it's the fact that he's not awake is what makes me uneasy. At least if he was awake, he could protest and complain.

Steve and Two-Bit left hours ago to go talk to the police. I hadn't informed anyone that we had found Ponyboy, and since Two-Bit had also been there, he was the second-best person to talk to. Not to mention, there isn't enough space for all of us in the small ICU room.

"Do you feel all right, Ponyboy?"

It's after I've stepped out once to let the nurses take over that I come back in to find them talking to Ponyboy. Sodapop is on his feet and at the end of the bed, watching him carefully.

"Mhmm," Ponyboy hums sleepily.

I do a quick double take and look at my youngest brother again. The nurses are checking things, touching bruises, and poking injuries, but Ponyboy's eyes remain closed. I know he's awake, even if just barely.

"What's your pain level, honey?" A nurse asks. "Scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you've ever felt in your life and one being barely there."

Ponyboy mumbles a number that I don't hear, but the nurse does. I step further inside the room and stand next to Sodapop.

"He woke up a few minutes ago," Sodapop whispers to me.

"How's he doing?" I ask.

Sodapop shrugs and chews on his bottom lip. "He seems okay. He ain't really there, though."

I look at Ponyboy again while the nurses write things down and talk to each other. I can see his fingers barely moving, running slowly against the fabric of the bed beneath him, and I wonder what he's doing. What he's thinking. He lets out a very audible breath and then his fingers stop.

One of the nurses looks down at him and marks something on her chart. They finish up what they have to do and move to leave, but not before informing us that Ponyboy is sleeping. They shot him up with more medicine.

I wait till they are gone before I question Sodapop again. "Did he say anything?"

Sodapop shakes his head and sits down in a chair. "He was too groggy. He'd respond to the nurses questions, but he was just mumbling everything."

"Well," I say with a sigh, sitting next to him. "It's something."

Sodapop nods and watches Ponyboy. It's a few minutes before he speaks again, but when he does, I can tell he's got something weighing on his mind.

"Darry?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Did you think he was dead?" He asks, hesitating a moment. "When you found him?"

Flashes of Ponyboy tied down enter my mind. The cloth to keep him silent, colored with his blood. The bruises. The way he didn't move... "Yeah, Sodapop. I did."

Sodapop is silent another moment. "Will you ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"How you and Two-Bit found him. I mean…what it was like…what _he_ was like…"

I run a hand over my face and back through my hair. "Maybe. Once Ponyboy is home and better."

"Tell me something, Dar…"

"What?" I look over at him. He looks about ready to cry. I resist the urge to reach out and touch him because I'm afraid he'll crumble. And if he crumbles, I think I will, too.

"Just on what you know happened…how…how bad is it gonna be?"

I glance back to Ponyboy, whose face is calm and peaceful in sleep. I know that it's an illusion to the storm going on inside of him. "It's gonna be bad, Sodapop. Real bad."

XxX

Multiple nurses come in and out of Ponyboy's room all throughout the morning. I assume it's to get things ready for him to leave, but it turns out that the doctor isn't ready to release him yet. Apparently there are still a few things that are too concerning to let him go. And that concerns _me_.

So we stay another day at the hospital.

Steve and Two-Bit hang out here. Every once and a while, two of us go walk around the hospital to get out of the small room. Mostly it's Sodapop. He has problems sitting still in normal situations, but the anxiousness of this has him constantly on his feet, needing to be moving. He and Two-Bit bring everyone coffee. I don't let him have any. I know it'll make him more jittery and that's not what he needs.

When he's not moving, he's trying to sleep. He lays across a few chairs and uses my leg as a pillow. Two-Bit and Steve sit on the floor and play cards while I rub Sodapop's back gently, trying to coax him into sleep the way he does to me when he gives me a massage. It's totally not fair at all, but he needs rest. And I don't need two people to worry about right now.

They end up releasing Ponyboy the next day during the afternoon. It's a simple process for everyone who works in the hospital and is used to it, but it's difficult for us. They give Ponyboy a shot of something to wake him up since he's still asleep and not responding well to us trying to wake him. The doctor says it's normal.

They get Ponyboy into a wheel chair and have me fill out some last paperwork. He's groggy and doesn't talk. Mostly he just leans against his hand with his eyes closed.

Two-Bit leaves his car for us to use and he and Steve go home to get things ready. It's times like this when I'm reminded of how much of a family we really are.

I get all I need and walk with the nurse who's wheeling Ponyboy out to the front where Sodapop has the car waiting. I help Ponyboy up and sit with him in the backseat, letting him lean onto my shoulder to rest while I keep a protective arm around him. Touching him helps me realize he's really here. Sodapop drives slowly and carefully, something I wasn't sure he was even capable of doing, and Ponyboy sleeps the whole time.

I carry him into the house when we get there and take him to his room. Two-Bit has his bed ready with lots of pillows and blankets, some of which I'm almost positive aren't ours. He helps me lay Ponyboy down, but as we get him situated and comfortable, Ponyboy lets out a moan.

"Pone?" I ask softly. Two-Bit and I have frozen, waiting for a response. Ponyboy shifts his weight and snuggles up against one of the pillows. I smile and pull a blanket over him, resisting the urge to push his hair away from his forehead.

XxX

"You need to sleep, Sodapop."

Soda sighs and pushes the palms of his hands into his eyes. It's a trait that I can't figure out which one of my younger brothers started first, but they both do it. I reach out and gently pull his arms down.

"Now, Soda."

"Darry," he whines. "I'm fine. I just wanna wait until Ponyboy wakes up."

"Ponyboy's gonna be sleeping for a long time. You know that. Now go get some rest."

"You need sleep, too," he says pointedly.

"Yes, but I'm the older brother and that means I get to do what I want."

"That ain't fair," Sodapop complains.

"Life ain't fair, kid." I nudge him towards his room. "Just try. I'll wake you up in a little bit."

"Fine," Sodapop grumbles, stalking off. I smirk.

Two-Bit stays with Ponyboy while I go make lunch. Sodapop ends up coming out of his room on his own half an hour later, a blanket pulled around himself, eyes puffy and red. If he slept, he didn't sleep much. He slides his feet slowly as he walks into the kitchen. I know he's tired. When Sodapop gets tired- -really, _really _tired- -his mannerisms are different. He gets real quiet and kind of cuddly, like a little kid. It doesn't happen often, but it's happened before. And this is one of those times.

Steve eyes him from the living room, but stays where he is. I set down the spoon I was tasting with as Soda stumbles towards me and I wrap my arms around him and pull him close. He keeps his own arms in his blanket and snuggles closer to get the same effect of actually hugging me. He leans against me, resting his head on my shoulder, and sniffs, but doesn't say anything.

I'm not sure there really is anything left to say.


	14. Chapter 14

**Gosh, you guys are mean, haha. Sorry it took so long to update. I'm on winter break now, so I'll write more.**

**Anyway, thanks for the tons of reviews! Seriously. You guys are amazing.  
><strong>

**I don't really like this chapter, but I know you guys have been waiting forever, so here you go!  
><strong>

**Enjoy.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

It's a half an hour later when Sodapop finally falls asleep on the couch. Steve and Two-Bit have gone home, leaving me to deal with the situation. I sit for a few minutes listening to the sounds of the TV and Sodapop's soft breathing before I find myself anxious and have to get up.

I peak into Ponyboy's room to make sure he's okay and find that he's still sound asleep. He's lying curled up on his side, positioned between a number of pillows. His foot is supposed to be elevated, but I don't have the heart to move him. He looks so comfortable and peaceful. I decide to wait until later.

When later comes along, I still don't want to move him, but I do. Sodapop wakes up and helps me gently roll Ponyboy onto his back, and we carefully get his leg up onto a couple of pillows. I remember the way he screamed when we didn't know his leg was broken. I try to shake the thought from my head.

Ponyboy doesn't wake. In fact, he's been asleep for a long time. I know the doctor told me he would be, but it's still unnerving. Sodapop and I have to try to wake him to give him his medicine, and it's difficult. He doesn't fully wake- - just enough to let us put pills in his hand and make him take a drink of something to swallow them down. Then he's out again.

We have to do the same thing later because I worry about getting food into him. When we try to make him eat, he falls asleep in between bites.

Sodapop gently shakes him awake. "C'mon, Pone…just a little more."

But Ponyboy starts to feel sick and a moment later, throws up over the side of the bed. I had prepared for that just in case and already had the trashcan by him.

Ponyboy falls back asleep afterwards and we leave him be. We're both upset that his stomach can't handle food and that the small amount we gave to him is no longer in him. That means we are gonna have to try again, but we'll wait.

He's very still and I notice that he doesn't move much in this exhausted/drugged sleep he's in. It's weird to me. Ponyboy usually shifts positions a lot when he sleeps. It always used to annoy me, but it was normal. It was just something I accepted.

Sodapop spends the night on the floor in Ponyboy's room and I pull the recliner in and sleep in it. We both wake up at different times during the night to check on him. It feels like a dream. I'm afraid that at any moment, Ponyboy will disappear.

He wakes once while I'm checking on him. It's late and he's still groggy, but he talks.

"Dar?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

I watch him carefully. He closes his eyes again, speaking in a mumbled voice. "They broke my foot."

I look down at his leg and then back up to him. I'm not sure what he means. His foot was broken when we found him, but the Socs hadn't broken it. Ponyboy told the doctor he tripped and hurt it when he was trying to outrun them.

"I thought you fell?" I say gently.

"I did," he says, his voice going painfully hoarse. "But they broke it again."

I wince at the sound. "Who broke it?"

"The doctor broke it," someone says from below me. Sodapop sits up and rubs his eyes for a second before he moves to Ponyboy's bedside. "Does it hurt, Pone?"

Ponyboy shakes his head and lets out a tired breath. Sodapop rubs his arm softly. "Go back to sleep."

He mumbles something that I can't understand before his breathing slows and evens out. Sodapop gives me a weary smile and collapses back down on his makeshift bed. He's out within seconds.

XxX

For the next couple days, nothing really changes. Ponyboy sleeps a lot and doesn't move much. Sodapop and I are able to get food into him in the few minutes we can get him to stay awake, and we find that pretty successful.

The doctor comes by to check on him. Ponyboy hasn't spoken since that night, but I put it down to delirium. He's still really out of it. The doctor says it's normal, that the medication will make him drowsy and groggy for a while.

While he's in the room checking on Ponyboy, Sodapop and I stand in the hall, each leaning against the wall across from each other. Sodapop is biting his fingernails, shooting me frequent looks.

"What?" I finally ask, annoyed.

He chews on his bottom lip for a few seconds. "Darry, tell me something…"

"Tell you what?"

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Was he tied up?"

I blink. "What?"

"Ponyboy," Sodapop clarifies. "Was he tied up? When you found him?"

I sigh deeply. "Why're you asking?"

"His wrists," Sodapop says quietly. "And his leg. I could see bruises when we were in his room."

"Yeah, Sodapop," I say, sighing again. "He was."

Sodapop swallows hard and tears fill his eyes. "Was he tied to something?"

"Buddy, I don't think-"

"Darry!" His voice drops to a whisper. "Please…just tell me."

"He was tied to a bed," I say automatically, unable to resist. I keep the emotion away from my voice, but uncross my arms to soften my stance.

"Was he tied there the whole time he was gone?"

"I have no idea, little buddy. I didn't really talk to him about it."

Sodapop nods and looks down, fiddling with one of his nails. I watch him for a moment before the tears start to fall and he seems to crumble.

"Soda," I say gently.

He let outs out a shaky laugh and wipes at his face. "I'm sorry."

"Why're you sorry?"

"I just…" He shakes his head. "I dunno."

I push myself away from the wall and grab him into an embrace, pulling him close. I know he's hurting. I just wish there was something I could do about it.

XxX

It's late at night when the first nightmare happens. Sodapop's in a sleeping bag on the floor, I'm in the recliner again. I'm sound asleep when I'm suddenly jolted awake by a loud and incredibly painful scream. It sends me into a mini heart attack and my pulse is racing as I jump up.

The sound alone has woken Ponyboy before I get a chance. Sodapop's at the other side of the bed on his knees.

Ponyboy makes a frustrated noise and grabs one of his pillows, shoving it over his face. It's the clearest action I've seen from him since he's been home. Sodapop pulls the pillow away and I see that Ponyboy is crying.

"Are you okay, Pone?" Soda asks gently. Ponyboy nods and wipes quickly at his face, but it doesn't stop the tears.

"Easy, Ponyboy," I say. "Are you hurting?"

He nods again. "Leg."

"I'll get you some pain medicine," I say, and then leave quickly.

When I return, Sodapop has Ponyboy talking, telling him something I'm not sure I follow. He sounds a lot like he did after the rumble we had when he got kicked in the head.

I come in and return to his bedside, handing him the pills and a glass of water.

"Like when they what?" Sodapop asks. Ponyboy downs the pills and keeps talking. I take the glass from him and set it down on the nightstand.

"Grabbed it," he says. "And twisted it. It was worse than before."

I shoot Sodapop a look, wondering what he's talking about.

"Than before what, Pone?"

"I broke it," he says, yawning. "That man in white broke it again."

"All right, Pone," I interrupt. "Why don't you get some more sleep?" He doesn't really have a choice. The medication I gave him will knock him out before he can complain. He doesn't, though. He just closes his eyes and drifts off.

Once we're sure he's asleep, Sodapop lets out a shaky breath and runs his hands over his face.

"Jesus," he mutters. "I certainly didn't miss the nightmares."

I sigh. "Me either, little buddy. Me either."

XxX

Ponyboy sleeps soundly for a long time after his nightmare. I make food while Sodapop watches TV in the living room. It's weird how quiet the house is. I didn't notice when Ponyboy was gone, but now it's almost deafening. If things were normal, this house would be anything but quiet.

But things _aren't_ normal.

While Soda eats, I decide to go check on Ponyboy and see if I can get any food into him. When I come into the room, I find that Ponyboy has kicked all his covers off him. He squirms in his sleep, letting out a moan. I sit down on the edge of his mattress.

"Pone?"

Suddenly Ponyboy is choking. He grasps at his throat. His mouth is open and strange sounds are escaping, as though he can't breathe.

"Ponyboy!" I grab his shoulders and shake him.

I don't know if he's awake or not. His hands move from his throat to his face and then he's screaming. It's so loud that my ears are ringing.

"Ponyboy!"

Soda's in the room now, jumping on the end of the bed. He looks panicked.

"Ponyboy, Ponyboy," I urge loudly. "Relax. Breathe!"

He claws at his face, starting to tear his skin. He's losing his voice. I knew his throat couldn't handle the strain of him yelling yet.

I grab his hands to stop him. He doesn't struggle. He gasps for breath again.

"Ponyboy!" I shake him again, pulling him into a sitting position. His head falls forward for a second and then it snaps up. His eyes are open.

He rips his hands from me and gags.

"Soda!" I yell. Sodapop jumps off the bed and dives for the trashcan. He gets it back just in time for Ponyboy to lean over the bed and throw up. For a brief second, I realize I'm glad he had the thought process to lean over so he didn't get it all over himself and the bed. He pukes almost non-stop for a few more moments before he gets a break and moans.

"It's all right," I say gently, rubbing his back.

"Please," he begs through tears, gagging. His voice is hoarse and it sounds painful. "Please don't touch me right now."

I move my hand. "Okay. I ain't touching you, Pone."

He hurls again and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It comes back streaked red. I forget his asking and grab his arm, looking at the blood.

Sodapop sees it and lifts Ponyboy's face. He's not puking blood, much to my relief. It's coming from his mouth.

Ponyboy pushes Soda's hand away and sticks his fingers in his mouth, feeling for the source of where the sticky red substance is coming from. Sodapop and I both see that it's his tongue before he realizes it himself. He groans and collapses against the bed on his stomach.

"Pone," I say gently. "You okay?"

He takes a few breaths that make him sound like he's crying and wipes weakly at his face.

"I bit my tongue," he mumbles.

"I know," I say. "Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head. "It's here. Good for me."

I shoot Sodapop a look of confusion. He shrugs in response. "What's here?"

"My tongue," Ponyboy mutters. "They cut it off."

I frown. "No one cut your tongue off, Ponyboy."

"Do you mean they _tried _to cut it off?" Sodapop asks, swallowing back an odd sound.

Ponyboy shakes his head adamantly, but doesn't say anything else. His body jerks, as though he's going to throw up again, but he doesn't. He moans and closes his eyes.

"Will you get some water, Sodapop?" I ask. Soda nods and gets to his feet, leaving the room. I listen to Ponyboy breathe slowly and deeply, probably trying to calm his stomach. That breathing evens out within a few moments and I know he's fallen asleep. I smile gently. Ponyboy always had a knack for falling asleep really fast.

"Here," Sodapop says as he walks in. I bring a finger up to my lips.

"Shh." I grab Ponyboy's blankets and pull them over him before I motion Sodapop out of the room. I wonder if he can hear the sound of my heart pounding against my chest. I shove my fists into my pockets so he won't see my hands shaking.

I'm used to Ponyboy having nightmares, but I'm not used to this. This is different. This is a pain so deep that no amount of comforting will make it go away. I don't know what my kid brother went through. I can't protect him from memories and what already happened to him.

And that absolutely kills me.


	15. Chapter 15

**This is a really short chapter and I'm very sorry about that. I just wanted to get something out for you since I've been really slow about updating this. **

**A bit of bad language in this chapter, cause...well, it's warranted.  
><strong>

**Thanks for all the incredible reviews! Sorry if I didn't get to respond back to you, but I do read them all :)  
><strong>

**Enjoy.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

I hate not being able to wake Ponyboy up.

The doctor comes again to check on him and I express my deep concerns. I know it's getting in the way of him healing and it doesn't help that I can't get food or water into him. The doctor doesn't seem very concerned. He grabs Ponyboy's shoulder and shakes him.

"Ponyboy, you need to sit up."

Ponyboy groggily opens his eyes. I can tell he's too sleepy to really understand what's going on. The doctor doesn't let him fall back asleep though. He prods Ponyboy to move, helping him sit up. He hands Ponyboy the glass of water from the desk next to him.

"Drink this. It'll make you feel better."

Ponyboy holds the cup with both hands, weakly bringing it to his mouth. The doctor is checking other things on him while he drinks, and I watch in fascination at how easily he got Ponyboy up. He doesn't ask Ponyboy any questions and Ponyboy doesn't seem concerned about what he's doing.

"Darrel, can you go fill another glass?"

I nod numbly and hurry from the room, returning a moment later with another glass of water. The doctor thanks me and takes it, replacing the now empty glass in Ponyboy's hand. He uncaps a bottle and pours out a few pills.

"Here, Ponyboy," he says. "You need to take these, too."

Ponyboy puts his palm out and takes the pill, popping them into his mouth without a question. The doctor puts away his things while Ponyboy finishes the drink. He takes the glass from Ponyboy once he's done and sets it on the table.

"Ponyboy, you need to listen to your brothers when they wake you up, okay? They'll give you stuff to make you feel better."

Ponyboy nods and slides back down in bed, snuggling into his pillow. The doctor smiles and stands up.

"As for you Darrel, I know it's hard to wake him, but you need to be persistent. Be annoying if you have to. Make sure he actually sits up or you'll probably never wake him."

I nod and thank him before he leaves.

Persistent and annoying. I could do that.

XxX

The first bill since Ponyboy has been found arrives in the mailbox. While both Sodapop and I hate it, we can't put it off for too much longer. Somebody needs to be working.

Sodapop grabs a shift at the DX and Two-Bit comes over to keep me company. I know that he and Steve have been sneaking things over to help us out. I pretend not to notice because I don't wanna have to say anything. I know everyone is just trying to make things easier, even if it annoys me. Mrs. Mathews has even called a few times to see if we need anything.

"How's he doing?" Two-Bit asks softly as he comes into Ponyboy's room.

I sigh. "Still sleeping."

Two-Bit perches himself on the arm of my recliner and looks at Ponyboy's still form. "Is that normal? He's been sleeping a lot."

"Yeah, the doc says it's normal," I say. "He said his body was exhausted and he should get all the rest he can."

"Too much of anything can be a bad thing," Two-Bit mutters. "How are you doing?"

I blow out a breath between my lips. "I'm all right. I'm just waiting for Ponyboy to actually wake up, you know?"

Two-Bit nods and falls into silence. I shoot him a look. When Two-Bit is quiet, it's eerie. It makes you feel like something is wrong. Something deep inside your skin, crawling through your veins.

"How are _you_ doing, Two-Bit?" I ask quietly. "I know that it's been hard on you, too. Do you th-"

"Um, Darry?" Two-Bit interrupts, getting to his feet. He motions quickly to Ponyboy and I turn, discovering there are tears rolling down Ponyboy's cheeks. He's still asleep.

"Pone?" I put a hand on his arm and the reaction is instant. He rips away and rolls onto his side, hugging himself. He's whimpering, whining almost. I move in closer and attempt to touch him again.

"Ponyboy, wake up." I shake him gently. He jumps, and then, without any warning, starts sobbing.

"Darry," he moans. I sit down on the edge of his bed as he rolls onto his back, looking at me through teary eyes.

"What's a matter, Pone?"

"Make them stop."

I push some hair away from his forehead and feel for a temperature. It's a habit I picked up from my mom. "Make who stop what?"

"Make them stop hurting me," he whispers. He lets out another sob and closes his eyes.

"Who's hurting you, Ponyboy?" I ask shakily, trying to keep calm. His arms tighten around himself and he cries even harder.

"I didn't do anything," he sobs. "I just didn't. And t-they…they kept going. T-they just kept _going_."

In a choked and delirious, broken voice, Ponyboy goes on to tell me and Two-Bit about them. His words and sentences are confusing, but we get the idea. That they hit him when he was tied up, stuffed him into the trunk of a car (though he told the doctor he had been in the same place the entire time he was gone, which I don't quite understand), pretended they were going to put a drill in his leg, and worse…how they grabbed his broken leg- -while he was tied down- -and twisted it.

When I hear that, I just…

I want to pretend he's too delirious to know what he's saying. That there is no way my little brother was actually being tortured. But he's so adamant, so upset, that I know there is a lot of truth coming out in this accidental outburst.

At some point, his words just turn into sounds that don't make sense, and I try to comfort him until he calms down again and falls back asleep.

I sit numbly in my chair for a few minutes before I realize Two-Bit is gone.

I find him in the kitchen a moment later, rummaging through the fridge. Even from where I stand, I can see he's trembling. I know he's not looking for anything in that fridge except a reason to be doing something.

"Two-Bit?"

"Jesus Christ, Darry," he says shakily, straightening himself. He's pale and looks unsteady. "I mean…just _fuck._"

I sigh and lean against the counter, running a hand over my face. "I know."

"I knew they hurt him, but I didn't think they were…torturing him," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I swallow against the nausea in my stomach. "I'm gonna do something about this."

Two-Bit nods. "Just not now, Darry. Wait until he's better, or until Sodapop and Steve know."

"Speaking of…" I say slowly. "Don't tell them yet, all right?"

He doesn't question me. "Sure, Dar."

It's silent for a moment until he lets out a breath and fists his hair. "God, Darry. I just…I can't…"

I push away from the counter and grab his shoulders, steadying him. "Just go on home, Two-Bit. Get some rest. I'll hold down the fort here."

He nods again and rubs his eyes. Now it is real, to the both of us, and we don't know what to do or say to make anything better. Ponyboy was being tortured, at least to some level, and that's all we need to know.

_Fuck_.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm sorry I didn't get to respond to anyone's reviews. I can't get the thing to work when I click on it. I think my browser is having problems.**

**But, they were amazingggg. Thank you guys so much! I can't believe I have over 300 reviews! It's so insane!  
><strong>

**Sorry for taking so long! I hope you can forgive me.  
><strong>

**Enjoy.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

I'm the only one home the next time Ponyboy wakes up. Darry and Two-Bit have disappeared somewhere, and Steve is working. I think he's been clocking in under my name.

Darry and I have been having a hard time leaving Ponyboy. We both know we're gonna start going into debt if no one is working, but it's hard to leave him once we finally have him back. I grabbed a shift at the DX so Darry didn't have to go in. I really didn't want him falling off a roof because he can't concentrate or something.

"Mama."

I'm in the living room when the voice calls out. I almost don't hear it over the sound of the TV, but it calls again, louder this time.

"Mamaaaa."

I jump up from the couch and race to Ponyboy's room. When I get there, I find him lying on his back, looking distressed. His eyes are closed.

"Mama."

I sit down on the side of his bed carefully. "What's a matter, Ponyboy?"

"I need mom," he says desperately. His voice is still hoarse and it hurts me to listen to. I run a hand through his hair and he opens his eyes to look at me tearfully.

"Mama's not here right now, kiddo," I say. "What do you need?"

The tears spill onto his cheeks and he lets out a sob. "Mama."

"Shh, Ponyboy," I say gently. "Just calm down."

This doesn't happen, though. Ponyboy only grows more upset. He closes his eyes and continues to cry. "Mamaaaa."

I take a deep breath and try to figure out the best way to approach this. The last time Ponyboy asked for mom was right after Dally died and he passed out. He was so ill and delirious, he didn't know what he was doing.

"Ponyboy, listen to me." I cup his face in my hands, mindful of his bruises. "Listen to me. It's gonna be all right. I promise you, it'll be all right."

He grabs my wrists weakly with his hands and squeezes his eyes tightly closed, sobbing. "M-mama would m-make them g-go a-a-away. S-she'd m-make them s-stop hurting m-me. I want m-mom."

I lean forward and kiss him softly on the forehead.

"No one's gonna hurt you no more," I whisper. "I'll keep you safe."

"S-Soda," he whines.

"It's okay," I say. "You're okay."

He digs his fingers into my skin, the sobs racking his body. He keeps asking for our mom, and nothing I say seems to make him calm down. After a few minutes of being of clueless, I get an idea. I tell him I'll be right back and head towards the closet in the hall.

Everything we've never gotten rid of lives in this closet. Boxes of old clothes, broken toys, faded memories.

I dig through one of the boxes until I find a stuffed animal. It's a white dog with black spots all over it. My mom gave it to Ponyboy when he was little, and as he grew older, it wound up in the closet with everything else we never use.

I close the door and take it back to Ponyboy's room with me. I sit down on the side of his bed.

"Pone," I say gently, and wait for him to open his eyes. "Here."

He takes the dog and gives me a confused look. Sniffing, he asks, "Mr. Spots?"

I nod. "You used to take him everywhere. Mom gave him to you."

The mention of mom brings more tears to his eyes and I start talking quickly, trying to calm him. "You used to sleep with him and he'd keep away your nightmares. I figured maybe he could do that now."

He hugs the stuffed animal and closes his eyes. I smooth back his hair, but I notice that he's still upset.

"Did I kill them?" He whispers suddenly. I frown.

"What?"

"Mom and dad," he says, biting back a sob. "Did I kill them, Soda? Is it my fault?"

I feel the breath in me escape. "Ponyboy…why would you think that?"

He shakes his head and rolls onto his side, cradling the dog to his chest. The damage is done. His words have left my heart broken. His heart is broken, too.

XxX

He finally falls back to sleep not long later and I quietly leave the room and head to the kitchen.

I pace back and forth in the small space, not sure what else to do. I take a few deep breaths as I brace myself against the counter, head bowed.

The front door opens and closes and a moment later, someone is in the kitchen.

"Hey Sodapop, do you-"

I look up at my brother and he instantly freezes.

"What's wrong?" He asks quickly. "What happened?"

I open my mouth, but instead of words coming out, I burst into tears. I shove my palms into my eyes and feel Darry grab me hard, pulling me into an embrace. I return the gesture and cry openly into his shoulder.

XxXxX

Sodapop doesn't tell me what's wrong, but he calms down quickly and apologizes for his outburst. I tell him there's nothing to be sorry for and make sure he's okay. We get interrupted, however, when Two-Bit and Steve show up. I can tell Sodapop is relieved. He joins his best friend in the living room and I decide to make dinner.

Two-Bit, Steve, and Sodapop hang out and play cards. When one of them gets loud, I throw something in their general direction, which makes them realize they need to keep it down. A half an hour later, I leave dinner to cool and go check on Ponyboy.

He's sound asleep, just like he has been for a majority of the time he's been home. I step into his room to make sure he's comfortable and notice his arms wrapped around something. I inch closer and discover what it is.

Suddenly feeling irritated, I leave Ponyboy's room and head back towards the kitchen. I'm only irritated because I remember Ponyboy used to get teased a lot for taking that dog everywhere. Steve was one of the people who teased him. I didn't want that to happen again.

Sodapop's stealing a taste of the food I made when I walk in.

"Who gave Ponyboy Mr. Spots?" I ask.

"I did," Sodapop says easily.

"Why?"

"Because he was asking for mom."

I blink. The irritation quickly fades. "Oh. I'm sorry, Sodapop."

"It's fine." Sodapop grabs a few plates from the cupboard. "I just gave him Mr. Spots so he would calm down."

"Was it bad?"

Sodapop stops for a moment and then sets down the plates, piling food onto them. Now I understand why he was so upset earlier.

I give his shoulder a squeeze and decide to let it drop. I don't need to make him sad again.

XxX

It suddenly comes to me the next morning while I'm washing dishes. Sodapop is still asleep, Two-Bit and Steve are in their own homes. I'm scrubbing away at some poor plate when I realize that it has been a long time since Ponyboy has taken a shower. They had cleaned him at the hospital, but it wasn't a full cleaning. They had only sponged him off so they could assess his wounds and keep them from getting infected.

I finish up the dishes and head to Ponyboy's room. I sit down on the side of his mattress and rub his arm gently, trying not to startle him. He moans and rolls his head towards me, his green eyes bright and tired.

"Hey, Pone," I say softly. "How're you feeling?"

He lets go of the stuffed dog in his arms and rubs his eyes, speaking in a slurred voice. "M'tired."

"I know, kiddo. You feel up to taking a bath? It'll help with the soreness."

"M'not sore," he protests weakly. I smile.

"Yes, you are."

"Oh," he lets out a yawn. "Okay."

I try not to laugh. He's still groggy, but at least he's awake. I leave for the bathroom and start the water. Once the tub is filled, I go back and find that he appears to be sleeping again.

"Hey Pone," I coax him awake.

"Hmm?"

"The bath is ready."

He rubs his eyes again. "Can I take a shower?"

"Can you _stand_?" I retort. I know he can't, but even if he could, I wouldn't let him take a shower.

"Oh, my God," he moans.

"What?" I ask quickly, hands hovering over him in a panic. "What's wrong?"

"I thought I _was _standing."

I let out a breath. How he can be sarcastic in his state of mind, I'm not sure. But it makes me feel better. I roll my eyes and go to help him up. "You're funny, kid."

He giggles softly. The sound freezes me for a moment. It's been so long since I've heard him laugh. He lets out a yawn and gives me a look.

"What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing."

"Hmmm," he mumbles. "I don't believe you, but I love you, so I'll let it go."

"Gee, thanks, kid," I laugh. "C'mon."

Slowly, so I don't hurt him, I help him sit up and shift his feet to the floor. He's woozy and isn't used to moving. I can tell he's trying to remember the mechanics of it through his foggy mind.

He won't let me carry him. I have to support him as he tries to walk. It's a long process because putting weight on his broken leg is painful and his good leg is weak, along with the rest of him. I practically drag him most of the way.

I sit him down on the closed toilet seat when we get there and start to unwrap his bandages. I move to help him get out of the pajamas he is still wearing from the hospital, but he stops me.

"I can do it," he says wearily.

"Just let me help. It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," I joke.

"Darry," he whines. I roll my eyes.

"Fine, but don't you dare get that cast wet. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters.

"Ponyboy Michael, I'm serious."

He stops and looks up at me, holding my look. There's something in his eyes. Something I can't understand.

"I know, Dar," he says softly.

I blink and open my mouth, fumbling for words for a second. "Okay, Pone. Call if you need me."

He nods and I leave the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I know it's probably not smart to leave him in there by himself. He isn't in the right mind and he might accidentally hurt himself or something, but I honestly don't feel too concerned. The look he had in his eyes makes me feel okay. Makes me feel like the old Ponyboy is there, fighting to break through this delirium and devastation.

And maybe, just maybe, things will be all right.

Maybe.


	17. Chapter 17

**I got a LOT of good reviews last chapter, and while everyone is very encouraging, I just have to say that I really don't like the last chapter.**

**I made Sodapop have a different style of story telling than Darry and while I was writing, Darry's style ended up transforming into Soda's and I really just did not like it at all.  
><strong>

**I'm gonna leave it and pretend it doesn't exist, but thank you guys so much for the reviews!  
><strong>

**This is a little bit of a longer chapter for you.  
><strong>

**Guess who you get to hear from again? ;)  
><strong>

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

Surprisingly, nothing goes wrong when I leave Ponyboy to take a bath by himself. He slings his broken leg over the side of the tub so he doesn't get his cast wet. He gets so relaxed in the hot water that when he's done, he lets me help him back into the fleece pajamas we got from the hospital. I offer to get him some sweats, since he doesn't actually have a pair of pajamas, but he declines. I suppose those are comfortable to him. Maybe even comforting. A symbol of safety.

He snuggles under the covers and closes his eyes while I re-wrap his injuries. The doctor showed me how to do it properly so I wouldn't hurt him. He also reminded me that I need to wrap Ponyboy's sprained arm different than the normal one.

I try not to look at the deep bruises on his wrists; they are so dark and angry looking that I'm concerned they are constantly hurting him. I guess the pain medicine helps with that.

The bruises on his face have started to heal, and I wonder if they bother him. If he can feel them at all. He hasn't looked in a mirror in a long time. He might not even know his face is bruised.

For the first time, as I'm examining Ponyboy's face up close, I notice marks around his throat. I can feel bile rising in my stomach. Had they strangled him? Choked him? He hadn't said anything about it, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.

I push the thoughts from my head.

Ponyboy peacefully drifts off to sleep and I finish up. I pull the covers over him and make a note of how young he looks when he's sleeping. In this state, he almost appears fragile. Nothing like the stubborn kid he was before all this mess, yet somehow exactly the same.

That Ponyboy is still there, and that gives me hope.

XxX

Later that night I dream.

Two-Bit and I are sneaking into the warehouse, and there is Ponyboy, hands and feet bound to the bed. Only this time, fresh blood is soaking through the front of his shirt. It's matted in his hair and running down the side of his face.

When I get to him, he doesn't appear to be breathing at all. I drop down and listen close to his mouth, but I hear nothing.

"Ponyboy!" I shout frantically. There's so much blood. Too much blood.

I start into CPR, but I'm afraid to pump his chest. I don't know what the wound is and I don't want to damage it any further, but I have to get air into him.

I pump once, hard, and it sends Ponyboy into a fit of coughing. Clots of red escape from his lips. Maybe he had been breathing the entire time, but it was so faint that I didn't know. Or maybe he was losing so much blood that…

"Hang on, Pone," I whisper. I look around and notice that Two-Bit is gone. I'm alone.

As I start to cut into the rope around Ponyboy's wrist, I slip and slice open his hand. He doesn't scream. He doesn't do anything.

Blood gushes from the new wound and I let out a chain of swear words. Frantically murmuring apologies, I go for the rope again. I haven't even touched him when his fingers start to bleed. Then the palm of his hand. Then all of his hand.

And when I touch him to figure out what's causing it, his arm starts to crumble like ash beneath my fingers.

I can't touch him. I can't save him.

I wake with a start, but it's not hard to tell what woke me from the dream. The house is loud.

Ponyboy is screaming.

Sodapop is yelling.

And panic overcomes me as I roll out of bed and rush towards the sounds.

"Ponyboy, wake up!" Sodapop is shouting. I burst into the room. Ponyboy has kicked and pushed everything off his bed in the midst of his nightmare. Sodapop is sitting on the side of his mattress, holding his arms down as Ponyboy fights against him. I don't think he realizes that he's making it worse.

I hurry to the bedside and pull Soda away. Taking his place, I grab Ponyboy and yank him up to a sitting position.

"Ponyboy," I say loudly, shaking him. "Wake up. You're having a bad dream."

His voice goes out again, leaving him with hoarse screams. He struggles against me, fighting off the demons that are taking my place in his sleep. I shake him again.

"Ponyboy! You're home, you're safe! Wake up! C'mon, Pone."

His eyes open, but he doesn't stop fighting. He's awake now, but I'm not sure he understands where he is. He's gasping, trying to pull himself out of my grip.

"It's okay, it's okay," I say quickly. "You're okay. Calm down."

"Please stop," he whispers, still struggling. "Please."

"Ponyboy, listen to me," I say gently. I squeeze his arms. "Listen to my voice. You're home. You're safe. No one is gonna hurt you."

As my words sink in, he stops fighting against me. He's still breathing hard and I can feel him shaking underneath my touch. I let go of his arms and feel his forehead.

"Are you okay?" I ask. He falls back onto the mattress and groans, covering his face with his arms.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

Sodapop grabs one of the pillows off the floor and prods Ponyboy to lift his head so he can place it underneath.

"Don't be sorry," Soda says as Ponyboy rolls over and buries his face into the pillow. He coughs and lets out a moan.

"Ow," he whines softly.

"Bet your throat is hurting, huh, kiddo?" I say.

He nods and looks up at me wearily.

"You want some tea, Pone?" Sodapop asks. "It'll help."

He shakes his head.

"We could make you some hot chocolate or something," I suggest.

He shakes his head again and closes his eyes. I put a hand on his back.

"Do you just wanna sleep?"

"I just want this to end," he whispers, his voice breaking.

I blanch. I know what he's talking about now.

I try to keep images from popping up in my mind. I don't dare look at Sodapop. I don't want him to read the expression that I know is written all over my face.

"It'll be okay," I say gently, but I'm not so sure anymore who I'm trying to convince. "It'll be okay."

XxX

My first thought when I wake up is that I'm dying. I have to be. My mouth is so dry and my head hurts so bad that it's hard to think. I know I'm in a different place. I look around, but the pounding makes my eyes blur. I see a glass of water on a nightstand next to me. Jay must have left it.

I reach for it and once I have it, chug it almost all the way down. It nearly makes me throw up. I put it back and collapse against my pillow. My…wait, what? I don't know when they gave me a pillow, or blankets for that matter.

I close my eyes to trigger my other senses. My broken leg doesn't hurt as much, but it's heavy, like something is on it. I can feel other things, too, like bandages on my wrists, and that I'm not wearing any shoes.

I open my eyes again and look around. I don't know where I am, but I'm not tied down and I'm definitely not in the warehouse.

I flip the covers off me and sit up. It hits me hard. My head spins and I take a moment to compose myself. Then I put my feet on the ground and prepare to make a break for it.

But as soon as I stand, I realize my mistake. I _can't_ stand. I'm too weak. I make it only a foot or so before my legs give way and I collapse.

I hear someone coming and panic. I try to drag myself back to the bed or somewhere to hide, but I can't do it. My legs are too heavy and the person is too close. Instead, I bury my face into my arms and try to hold back my tears. What will they do to me for trying to escape?

I'm terrified. Absolutely horrified.

"Ponyboy!"

I feel a hand on my back and another on the back of my head.

"Ponyboy, are you okay?" Someone is close to my ear, rubbing my hair. "Can you hear me?"

I sniff back my tears and slowly lift my head. The voice sounds familiar.

"Sodapop?" I ask.

He moves his hand to my arm, rubbing it gently. "Are you all right? What happened?"

I look at him for a long moment, my breath faltering, before tears pour over my eyes and I throw my arms around him.

"Whoa," he says, holding me gently. "It's okay, Pone. You're okay."

I choke on a sob, and I feel my fingers gripping him desperately as though he might disappear at any moment.

"Pone, Pone," he says softly. "Calm down. You're all right. You're safe. It's gonna be okay. Just calm down."

"Soda," I whisper. I'm suddenly drowsy, like everything has just taken a toll on my body. "I don't feel good."

"Here, c'mon," he says, carefully helping me up. He knows I can't stand, so he lifts most of my weight for me.

I collapse against my pillow as he pulls the covers over me. I can faintly remember parts of things, and I get enough to realize I'm home, and just like Sodapop assured me, I'm safe.

It feels like a dream. _I_ feel like a dream. Every time I move, I feel sluggish, like I'm sleeping. Like I'm not controlling my body, or the shivers that are coursing through me.

"S-Soda."

"Yeah, Pone?"

"I'm cold."

Soda is silent for a second. "Hang on."

He leaves and comes back a moment later, and I feel the new weight of more blankets on top of me. He tucks them around me and I snuggle into the bed, but I'm still cold.

"Did that help?" Sodapop asks. I nod, still shaking. It's obvious he can see it.

He climbs onto the bed and lays next to me, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close. Even through the blankets, I can feel his comforting heat.

I sniff and close my eyes, drifting off to sleep.

XxX

"Hey, Sodapop," I greet as I walk into Ponyboy's room. "I'm back."

I notice the mountain of blankets on top of my kid brother and raise an eyebrow before Soda can speak. "If you're trying to smother him, I think you're getting close."

Sodapop rolls his eyes and gives me a grin. "Very funny, Dar. He was cold. I think he has a fever."

"Oh?" I walk forward and sit down on the side of the mattress. I rest a hand on Ponyboy's forehead before moving to his cheeks and then to his neck, careful of the bruises. Sodapop is right. Ponyboy is warm.

"We'll keep an eye on it," I say.

But the truth is that we don't keep an eye on it. We let Ponyboy sleep. Sodapop tells me about hearing Ponyboy get out of bed and collapsing, and then the mini-breakdown that followed. I find it a step closer to being good that Ponyboy was aware of his surroundings and actually moved on his own will.

And while we focus on that, we forget to check on how Ponyboy is feeling. Actually, we've forgotten a lot of things. Like to make Ponyboy eat before he takes one of his pills, to keep his broken leg elevated, to do the exercises we're supposed to do to stretch his muscles.

We make sure he gets food and water, and that he's not in any pain. I guess that's all we're thinking about, but it shouldn't be.

XxX

"Darry?"

The voice is quiet, but it jars me from my sleep. I roll over and push myself onto my elbows. It's one of the few times I've slept in my bed since Ponyboy's been home.

He's standing in the doorway, one hand holding onto the frame. I blink quickly to make sure I'm not dreaming.

"Pone?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

It takes me a brief moment to realize that Ponyboy shouldn't be on his feet. When I become aware of that and the fact that I haven't moved yet, I also see what Ponyboy actually looks like. His face is pale and clammy, even in the dimness of the room. He's holding onto the doorframe to support himself and there are tears in his eyes.

"I don't feel good," he whispers, before letting out a strangled sob. I quickly jump to my feet and rush to him.

When we were younger, Ponyboy would cry when he was sick. The first thing my mom would do was hug him to make him feel better. For some reason, it's the first thing I do as well.

I pull him close, but immediately I can feel it. His skin is very hot.

He leans into me and moans, resting his head on my shoulder. I wonder how he's even standing.

"Pone, you're burning up," I say, touching the back of his neck. I break our embrace and pull him towards the bed. "Sit down. I'll be right back."

I hurry to the bathroom and grab the thermometer. When I get back, I have Ponyboy hold it under his tongue while I feel his forehead. He closes his eyes again.

After a moment, I pull the thermometer out and look at it. I can't see well enough in the dark, so I flip the light on and read the numbers. My heart falls to my feet.

"Shit, Ponyboy." I look up at my brother. His face is flushed and his cheeks are rosy from the fever. "I gotta take you to the hospital. Stay right here."

I hurry to the living room to get our shoes, and discover that Sodapop is sleeping on the couch. He must have fallen asleep watching TV, and that must be why Ponyboy got out of bed.

I grab Soda's shoes first and toss them onto his stomach, jolting him awake.

"Darry?" He groans. "C'mon…I was sleeping."

"Get up," I say quickly, picking up Ponyboy's shoes while sliding on my own. "We're taking Ponyboy to the hospital."

Soda's on his feet in a split second. "What happened?"

"He's burning up. Bad." I also grab Ponyboy's coat before hurrying down the hall. I give him the jacket and tell him to put it on while I slip his shoes onto his feet. Once Ponyboy is bundled up, I scoop him up in my arms, making him moan.

I hurry down the hall to where Sodapop is waiting anxiously, keys in his hands. He holds open the front door and follows us out to the truck.

We sit Ponyboy in the middle, sandwiched between the two of us as I drive. He leans against Sodapop's shoulder and is mostly silent, except for the occasional whimper. Tears rolls down his cheeks the entire time. I know he must be miserable.

I just hope we get to the hospital soon.


	18. Chapter 18

**So, as some of you know, there was a bit of a disagreement going on in the comments.**

**First of all, I wasn't aware you guys read each other's reviews on this story. I think that's actually pretty cool, haha.  
><strong>

**Second, I appreciate everyone's thoughts and I thank everyone who commented to give their opinion on the situation. I do always take what everyone says into consideration, so thank you to all.  
><strong>

**I can't believe how many reviews I have. It's so crazy. Thank you guys so much!  
><strong>

**Enjoy.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

**.  
><strong>

There's a soft beeping sound all around me as I come to consciousness. I groan, but don't open my eyes. I feel hot and achy. It takes me a good few minutes to remember that I was rescued from the warehouse and taken home, but now I have no idea where I am.

I open my eyes and look around. It's not hard to tell I'm in a hospital room.

I feel a rush of cold in my arm and look down at it. Under a patch of tape is an IV sunk into my skin. Above is a bag of liquid, dripping contents down the long tube I'm connected to. I grit my teeth and resist the urge to rip the IV out of me.

"Well hello there, Ponyboy," a voice says. I look up as an older man in a white coat steps into my line of vision, giving me a gentle smile. "Glad to see you're finally awake."

I know he's trying to be nice, but for some reason tears start falling from my eyes. "W-why am I here?"

"You had a high fever and you weren't feeling good. Your brothers brought you in," the man says. "Just calm down now, Ponyboy. You're all right."

I start to cry harder. "Can you get my brothers? Please? I just want my brothers."

He nods and turns around. "Nurse Walik, can you please get Darrel and Sodapop Curtis from the waiting room as quickly as possible?"

I shove the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop my tears. The man- -the doctor, starts talking to me again, telling me to take deep breaths and relax.

"If you will, please," he says suddenly, but he's not talking to me anymore.

"Ponyboy," I hear a voice say gently. "What's wrong?"

There's a hand on my shoulder and I lower my own hands away from my eyes. Sodapop is sitting on the edge of my bed, concern etched onto his face. Darry is beside him.

I sit up and throw my arms around Sodapop, crying into his shoulder. He holds me close and touches the back of my neck, probably to feel the heat radiating off me.

"I wanna go home," I say desperately. I'm not sure why I'm so upset.

"I know, Pone," Sodapop says. "But you're sick. You gotta stay here until the doctor can make you better."

"No," I moan, letting out a sob. "I wanna go home."

"Ponyboy," Darry cuts in, his voice firm. "None of that, okay? You have to stay here to get better and then we can go home. Sodapop and I will stay with you. Nothing is gonna happen."

I want to believe him- - and part of me does, but I can't stop myself from crying. I have no control over it.

Sodapop just holds me close while I mumble things through tears that I'm sure no one understands. I understand, though. I don't feel good and I want to go home.

XxX

I'm not sure when I fall asleep, but when I wake up, I'm back at home. It takes me a minute to adjust to the different setting. I wrack my brain and faintly remember Darry carrying me from the car to the house.

I still feel sick, but nothing like before. I'm glad for that. I had felt like I was dying, and when I woke up alone, it only made me feel worse. I don't remember all of it, but I remember trying to get out of bed to find someone and falling more than once.

I push myself up onto my elbows and see that Darry is asleep in the recliner next to my bed. It makes me think of the last time I was really sick, right after the rumble. Darry had pulled the recliner in my room and done the same thing.

I reach over and touch his leg. "Darry."

He jumps, startled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say, biting back a smile. It's not often I can startle him. In fact, I'm not sure there was a time before this that I ever have.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sitting up and stretching out his back. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay," I say. "I feel okay."

I think he knows it's a lie. My throat starts to ache and I push myself back against my pillows because my wrists are hurting.

He rests a hand on my forehead. "You're still warm. Do you want anything? Some water or something to eat?"

I shake my head. There's something weighing on my mind and I'm not sure if I should ask, but it ends up slipping out.

"How'd I get here?"

Darry looks genuinely concerned and a little scared. "You don't know where you are?"

"No, I know where I am," I say softly. "Just…how did you find me?"

He opens his mouth, but he's trying to be careful of something. "You found me, Pone. You came into my room last night and told me you didn't feel good. Do you remember that?"

"That's not…" I fumble for words.

"Do you remember going to the hospital?" Darry asks.

"Yes," I say. "But that's not what I mean."

"What do you mean then, Pone?"

"How long have I been home?"

Darry looks at his watch. "We brought you back around nine this morning. It's almost three now."

"I…" I feel nauseas and suddenly upset. Tears fill my eyes and I try to blink them back.

Darry gives me a concerned look. "What's wrong, Ponyboy?"

"It was real," I say, choking on a sob that has made its way up my throat. "It was."

"Calm down, kiddo. What was real?"

I take a shuddering breath. "I don't feel good. I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Okay, relax," Darry says quickly, moving the trashcan closer to us. "Just take deep breaths. Calm down."

"Darry," my voice shakes. I pray that he understands me this time. That I didn't imagine everything. "How long have I been home? Not since last night."

He reaches forward and wipes away a few tears that have fallen down my cheeks. It's an act so gentle and kind that it surprises me coming from my oldest brother. "A little longer than a week, kiddo. You've been on some pretty heavy drugs, though."

"Why am I not now?"

"They gave you different medicine last night when your fever spiked and told us we could taper you off to something that makes you less groggy."

"Am I sick?" I ask hoarsely.

"Yeah, little buddy," he says gently. "You are, but you're getting better."

"Why does my throat hurt?"

Darry sighs. "You've been screaming a lot in your sleep."

"Oh." I sniff and wipe at my eyes. "It was real, wasn't it, Darry? I was really gone, right?"

He nods and pushes back my hair. "You were. It was real."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel my stomach settling and I try not to think about everything that happened to me.

"How long was I gone?"

"A long time, kiddo," Darry says softly. "Let's not talk about it right now. You need to sleep. Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"No," I say, sinking down against my pillow. "My head doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean?"

"It feels fuzzy, like when the TV goes out."

"Well just relax and get some sleep. If you still feel that way later, I'll call your doctor."

I can already feel myself getting drowsy. Without really realizing it, I reach over and grab Darry's arm. "Don't leave, 'kay?"

He puts his hand on top of mine in a reassuring way. "I'd never leave you."

XxX

"Hey Darry," Sodapop greets as he walks into the room, still in his DX clothes. He reeks of gasoline and sweat.

"Take a shower, little buddy," I say, plugging my nose. "Your smell is gonna kill both Ponyboy and I before anything else gets a chance."

"I will, but first I need to do a little stretching," he says, lifting his arms over his head and interlocking his fingers. I grab one of Ponyboy's pillows off the floor and throw it at him. He catches it and laughs.

"How's he doing?"

"He's still warm, but he woke up and actually had a conversation with me," I say. Sodapop's eyes light up.

"Like a normal conversation?" He asks. "He wasn't groggy?"

"He said his head felt fuzzy, but he was talking really well." For someone's sake- -I'm not sure whose- - I water down the truth. "He did get upset when I wasn't understanding him about something, though."

Sodapop chuckles. "That sounds like Ponyboy."

"It sure does," I say. "Now seriously, go take a shower. I don't need the paint peeling more than it already is."

"Glory, Darry, you act like I smell worse than I normally do," Sodapop jokes. "Ain't like it's bothering Ponyboy."

"It's not," Ponyboy mumbles. I glance over at him the same time Sodapop does. His eyes are still closed, but there's a smile pulling on the sides of his lips.

Sodapop sticks his tongue out at me. "See? Ponyboy doesn't care and his opinion is the only one that matters."

"You're cruising for a bruising, little buddy."

"Don't promote violence in front of a child, Darry," Sodapop says, feigning a look of disappointment. He clicks his tongue. "Shame on you."

Ponyboy lets out a sleepy laugh and I smile. Sodapop smiles, too; a gentle smile, like a parent would smile towards a young child. It really makes me realize how much Sodapop has grown up.

Ponyboy's breathing becomes heavy and I take this moment to get up and out of the room. I desperately need to stretch out my legs.

Sodapop follows me into the kitchen, stripping off his shirt as he goes. He takes a quick peak in the fridge and swipes a drink from the chocolate milk carton before he heads off to take a shower.

"Make sure to use soap!" I yell in his direction. I hear him chuckle as he turns the water on.

I let out a sigh and lean against the counter. For the first time in a long time, things are finally starting to feel okay again.


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm sorry. I know the nightmares are getting tedious, but I wanted one from Ponyboy's perspective. I hope you guys are okay with it.**

**Thanks for the bunch of reviews! You guys are amazing :)  
><strong>

**(I had some problems posting this chapter, so I hope you guys can actually see this!)**

**Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

I wake up and no one is there.

It takes me a few moments to clear my head. My bed is comfortable and soft, and I move to rub my eyes, but then I realize… I can't. My hand is stuck.

I look up and see that my wrist is tied down to the bed. I yank on it hard.

This isn't happening.

I can't breathe. As I panic and start to struggle to undo the knot in the rope, my bedroom door opens. I expect it to be Sodapop, or Darry, or someone coming in to tell me this is a joke. Or a test. Just something besides what it is_._ But it's not one of my brothers or one of the gang who comes in. It's a Soc.

"S-Soda," I try to yell, but it comes out as a whisper. The Soc smirks.

"Your brother's not here," he says. "No one is here. They left earlier this morning."

"I…" I swallow hard. "I don't believe you."

"Oh?" The Soc motions around. "Then tell me how I got in here? And how I got to you? And why no one has come to save you?"

"I…"

"Because there _is_ no one," he says. "No one cares, and no one is going to protect you now."

I suck in a large breath. "Soda!"

He slowly approaches and I fumble with the knot again.

"Darry!" I cry. "Help!"

I can't get the knot out. I lean over and try to find where the rope is connected to when I feel the Soc's hand on my leg. I freeze.

"Don't move," he warns me. I lower myself flat again and remain still.

"I think," the Soc says, "That breaking your leg again sounds like a fun idea. What do you think?"

A sob rises in my chest. "Please…don't…"

He runs his fingers over my cast thoughtfully. "I could break the other one. Two broken legs would be fun."

"Ponyboy!" I hear the voice from far away. Someone is home.

I look to the door, but the Soc doesn't appear like he heard the noise. He grabs my broken leg and twists it as best as the cast will allow. It does the damage he intended it to do.

I scream.

"Ponyboy!" The voice is next to me now. I struggle against the rope as pain radiates through me. The Soc smiles evilly and twists my leg back the other way.

Convulsions course through me and my vision goes blurry. I can faintly hear screaming, and even though I know it's me, I feel too detached to really understand it.

"PONYBOY!"

Someone is shaking me, holding me down. I writhe, pulling against my restraints.

"Ponyboy, wake up! Wake up! C'mon."

My eyes shoot open. Sodapop and Darry are above me. My wrist is free, but I'm still struggling and I'm still screaming.

"Ponyboy!" Soda shouts desperately. "Relax. You're safe."

"D-Darry," I gasp, finally able to get control of my voice. The hands holding me down release me.

"Yeah, little buddy?"

The pain starts to fade from my leg and I shove the heels of my hands into my eyes. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

"What is it, Ponyboy? What's wrong?"

"It was so real," I whisper, swallowing hard. "They were doing it again."

It's silent for a brief moment, but Darry knows what I mean. "Does it hurt, Pone?"

I nod and push myself up. The action alone hurts and I let out a groan, trying to stretch my sore muscles. Tears spring into my eyes.

"Damn it," I mutter, wiping them away quickly.

"Take these. They'll help," Darry says, holding out a couple of pills. I take them from him and pop them in my mouth. I don't really care what they are. I just want everything to stop.

He hands me a glass of water and I drink it down. My hands are shaking so bad that it's hard to keep a grip on the glass. Sodapop takes it from me and sets it on the nightstand.

"Can I take a shower?" I ask.

"No," Darry says. "But you can take a bath."

I shake my head. "No. Never mind."

A wave of fatigue washes over me and I start to feel drowsy. I bury my face into my hands.

"Are you okay?" Darry asks.

"I dunno," I mumble. "I dunno."

I feel like everything inside me is in a frenzy, but Darry is calm. He rests a hand on my back and his voice keeps me from falling into the chaos. "Just take a deep breath. Relax."

I inhale deeply and blow the breath out through my mouth. Darry's words are low and gentle and he talks to me until I sink down against my pillow and let the darkness take me away.

XxX

When I wake up, I'm on my stomach and Sodapop is sitting next to me in Darry's chair, watching me.

"Soda," I say sleepily, rubbing my eyes. "Most people would find that creepy."

Soda laughs and sits forward. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," I say. I blink a few times to clear my vision. "Where's Darry?"

"He's making some food. Think you can eat?"

"Sure." I nod and glance at the clock to get a general idea of what time it is. I rub my eyes again. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Cause you're supposed to be sleeping." He smiles and pushes my hair back, feeling my forehead. "And cause you weren't having a nightmare, so I didn't wanna ruin that."

I cringe. "Have I been keeping you up a lot?"

Sodapop shakes his head, but I know he's lying. He hasn't been sleeping with me, which means I've been waking up the entire house with my screaming.

"Pone, can I ask you something?"

"Mhmm."

"Did you think you were gonna die?"

I feel like someone punched me in the stomach. I don't think about what happened to me. It's all like a bad dream really.

"Yeah."

Soda slides off the chair onto his knees and folds his arms on the edge of my mattress. Now that he's only about a foot away from me, I can see him more clearly. His eyes are watery and he looks weary.

"Did you think we wouldn't find you?"

I wish he'd stop, but I know he's just hurting. I detach myself from what happened and answer automatically. "Yeah, I did."

He leans his chin onto his arms and the tears start falling. "I missed you so much."

"Oh, Soda," I say, feeling my heart ache. I reach forward and wipe away a few of his tears before placing my hand on his cheek. "Don't cry."

Soda closes his eyes and places his hand on top of mine. The tears pour faster. "I thought I lost you."

"You didn't," I whisper. "You didn't."

There are a lot of things that are easy to read about Sodapop. He's like an open book to anyone who knows him. But there are a few things that only Darry and I can catch right away, and one of them is when Sodapop is really, really tired. Like he is now.

I can't explain how I know it, but I do. It's in his eyes. In his face. In his emotion.

"Will you…" I start, making him open his eyes. "Do you wanna sleep…here…with me?"

Soda smiles and nods, releasing my hand. He climbs over me carefully and slides under the covers while I roll onto my side. He throws an arm around me and I wiggle closer, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the faint smell of gasoline. I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat.

"I love you, Soda," I say quietly.

"I love you, too, kiddo," Soda says. "More than you know."

XxX

When I come to get Soda later, I find him and Ponyboy snuggled together. I had warned Soda not to sleep with Ponyboy until he was better, but I know he couldn't resist if Ponyboy asked him to, which I'm sure he did.

I smile and lean against the doorway. As if sensing my presence, Ponyboy stirs in his sleep, eyes fluttering open.

"Hey, Darry," he says quietly when he spots me a moment later. He wiggles out of Soda's grasp and stretches.

"Hey, kiddo," I say. "How're you feeling?"

He lets out a yawn. "I'm fine."

"Do you need anything? Do you want some food?"

Ponyboy rubs his eyes and sighs sleepily. "Can I go eat in the living room?"

I hesitate. "I don't think that's a good idea, little buddy."

"Why?"

"You're supposed to be getting rest."

"I can rest on the couch." He sees my discomfort and sticks his bottom lip out. "Please, Darry?"

I think about how long it's been since Ponyboy has been able to do anything normal. I nod and give in, because I can't help it, and move to lift him out of bed. He stops me.

"I wanna walk."

I groan. "Pone, you're really not even supposed to be getting out of bed."

"Darry," he whines. "I'm gonna forget how to walk if I have to lay here any longer."

"Don't be so dramatic," I say. Sodapop mumbles something in his sleep and rolls onto his side, falling silent again. Ponyboy looks at me with big eyes.

"It's just the living room, Dar. It's not like I'm asking to run a marathon."

I sigh.

Helping Ponyboy up isn't as difficult as I except it to be, but it's obvious he's hurting. I try more than a few times to persuade him back to bed, but he has his mind set.

It takes us a surprisingly long time to get to the living room, and Ponyboy grows weak quickly. He sprawls out on the couch when we get there and I cover him with a blanket.

"Why aren't you at work?" He asks, propping his injured leg up.

"You know why," I say.

He frowns. "How long has it been? Since you've been to work?"

"That's none of your concern, kiddo," I say, heading towards the kitchen.

"It _is_ my concern," he continues. Because the TV and stereo are off, unlike they usually are, I can still hear him. "Especially when we run out of money and can't pay bills and then I get taken away from you."

I walk back in with a plate of food for him and discover that this is actually making him upset. He's pushed himself up to lean against the arm of the couch, and there are tears in his eyes.

I set his plate down and kneel in front of him.

"We're fine, Ponyboy," I say calmly. "We have money, and Sodapop has been picking up some shifts from the DX. Plus, I'm pretty sure Steve has been clocking in under his name."

He bows his head and wipes quickly at his face. I put a hand on his shoulder as the phone starts ringing.

"I'm sorry," he mutters.

"It's okay," I say. "Just relax. Don't worry about any of that. I've got it covered."

He nods and I get up to go see who's calling. Just before I get there, he speaks again.

"Did you get a new coffee table?"

I glance back at him. "Nope."

"Oh." He rubs his eyes. "It looks different."

"That's cause it's clean, kiddo." I pick up the phone, but I don't miss him muttering under his breath, "That's not what I meant."

"Hello?"

"Hey, Darry." Two-Bit's voice rings over the line.

"Hey, Two-Bit. What's up? Where've you been lately?"

"Well…" He hesitates for a second. I look over at Ponyboy, who is starting slowly into his food. "Before I explain, do you think you can pick me up?"

"Sure," I say. "Where are you?"

It's silent for another moment, but Two-Bit sounds almost like he's trying not to laugh. "I'm in jail."

I groan. "Two-Bit."


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry I didn't get to respond to anyone's reviews, but I very much appreciate them!**

**Wanted to get a chapter out faster for you guys because you're awesome. **

**Thanks so much for the reviews and for reading!**

**Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

"You're free to go," the police officer says to Two-Bit as I wait by the door. "But don't let me see you back here again, Keith."

Two-Bit bows dramatically and tips an invisible hat. "Yes, sir."

The officer rolls his eyes and hands him a piece of paper. Two-Bit quickly folds it and stuffs it into his pocket before he mutters something in a low voice that I can't hear. The officer glances at me and then back to Two-Bit, nodding his head.

Two-Bit says one last thing and then turns towards me, beaming. I groan inwardly. His eye is dark purple, swollen nearly shut. There's a nasty cut on his lip that looks like it just started healing and a faint bruise along his jaw line.

"Jesus, Two-Bit," I say, opening the door of the police station and following him out. "What happened to you?"

"I got in a fight," he says proudly.

"Did you win? Cause from the looks of it, I'm not too sure."

He punches me in the arm. He's jittery, jumping around as he walks. I can't tell if he's got the post-rumble glow we always get after a fight or if it's something else. "I won."

"Who'd you get in a fight with?"

"Some Soc. Man, I got him good."

"Two-Bit, you know you're supposed to be laying low," I say. "You know, not causing trouble?"

"I know," he says, waving me off. "You should've seen his face, Dar. Man, I must have knocked out one of his teeth, there was so much blood-"

I cut him off. "Two-Bit. You know I'm usually all down for beating a Soc's face in, but we can't get in trouble right now."

"I know," he says, suddenly growing serious. He looks down at his feet and drops his voice. "But he was trash talking Ponyboy."

I glance over at him. I should've known.

Quietly, I ask, "What did he say?"

Two-Bit shakes his head. "It doesn't matter now. I'm sorry."

I sigh and give his shoulder a squeeze. He's one of the last people I need to make feel bad. I know he's been going through hell, cause I've been going through it myself.

"But you got him good?" I ask. Two-Bit grins and bounces on his feet.

"Real good, Dar. He won't think to mess with the mighty Two-Bit again."

I laugh. "That's great, Jim Stark. Get in the car."

XxX

"Hey, Two-Bit?" I ask as I park the truck in front of the house. "How long were you in the slammer?"

"That is an excellent question, my good friend." Two-Bit kicks open his door and steps out onto the street. "But the better question is how long did it take you to notice I wasn't around?"

He closes the door and practically skips up to the house. I wonder if he's drunk, or high, but then I wonder how long it's been since I've actually seen him before this. I know it hasn't been too long, but I don't know when he was arrested.

I get out of the truck and head towards the house. When I open the front door, I find Two-Bit kneeling down in front of the couch. I had left Ponyboy as he was falling asleep, but now he's pushed himself up and Two-Bit has moved back his hair, resting a hand on his forehead.

"Yeah," Ponyboy is saying, smiling gently. He glances over at me as I close the door. "Hey, Darry."

"Hey, kiddo," I say. I notice that his cheeks are rosy and his eyes are a little fervent. I make a note to check later to see if his fever has returned.

He turns back to Two-Bit and says something in a low tone. I can't pick it up, but I don't try to.

I move forward and pretend to be interested in something else to give them a little privacy. I can still see them from the corner of my eye. Two-Bit nods and moves his hand to the back of Ponyboy's neck, leaning forward until his forehead is resting against Ponyboy's.

Ponyboy closes his eyes and says something I can't hear. I feel bad for watching now, but I can't look away. I see Two-Bit rub his thumb over the back of Ponyboy's neck while he responds.

Ponyboy let out a shaky laugh and then Two-Bit pulls him into a soft embrace. I wonder if he's afraid of hurting him or if he's just afraid that Ponyboy might crumble under his touch.

A moment later they pull away and I turn, acting like I wasn't just watching them. They don't even notice me, though.

"Darry!"

I turn towards the sound of the voice. It's not Two-Bit or Ponyboy, but they're both looking down the hall in concern. Then I get it.

I hurry in the direction of their gazes and towards where Sodapop had been sleeping. I don't expect him to be rushing out of the room the same time I get there and we nearly collide.

Grabbing his shoulders, I steady him. "What's wrong?"

He's frantic. "Ponyboy, h-he's-"

"He's in the living room, Sodapop," I say. "He's fine. He's okay."

Sodapop lets out a big sigh and runs his hand back through his hair as I release him. "I'm sorry. I just…I woke up and he was gone…and I thought…I just wasn't thinking…I mean, I knew, but…"

"I get it, little buddy," I say, squeezing his shoulder. Sometimes it's hard to remember that Ponyboy is safe and actually here, and to go to sleep next to him and wake up with him gone…well, I can imagine what Sodapop must have thought.

"C'mere." I pull him along with me out to the living room. "See? He's fine."

Sodapop smiles and starts towards him, but then he sees his friend. "Whoa, Two-Bit. What happened to you?"

"You didn't tell him?" Two-Bit asks me. I shake my head.

"He was sleeping. I left him a note in case he woke up, but you can see by his hair that that just happened," I say, ruffling his hair. He pushes my hand away playfully.

"This look doesn't come easy," he says. "It takes dedication and work."

"Uh huh."

"Did you get in a fight?" Sodapop asks. Two-Bit nods, that happy jitteriness returning.

"Beat a Soc's face in." He jumps to his feet. "Let's get some food and I'll tell you all about it."

Sodapop laughs and follows Two-Bit out of the room. Before he steps out, he looks back at Ponyboy.

"You all right, Pone?"

Ponyboy nods and gives him a smile. "Go, Sodapop."

Sodapop smiles back and disappears a second later. Ponyboy waits until he's out of earshot before he turns towards me.

"Is he okay?"

I sit down on one of the chairs by the couch and nod. "He's just a little on edge."

"Why?"

I know Ponyboy really knows why, but I answer him anyway. "He was a wreck while you were gone. We all were. And then we got you back only to find out that the doctors needed to hurt you again to make you better."

"You mean by breaking my leg?" He asks quietly. I nod.

"It was so bad, Ponyboy," I say, but now I don't know where I'm heading. Feelings of my own are boiling to the surface. "We were supposed to take you home and they wound up keeping you in the hospital another day. Even when we got you here, you weren't able to understand anything. You were too out of it. It's like you were here and you weren't."

I decide to head back from my tangent and get to the point. "Sodapop woke up and you weren't there, so he just panicked. He's afraid he's gonna wake up and find that it's all a dream and that you never came home."

Ponyboy's face drops and he looks down.

"I'm…I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't do that, Ponyboy," I say gently. He looks up at me.

"What?"

"Don't blame yourself for things you can't control."

"But I-"

"No." I cut him off. "You have to understand something, Ponyboy. It's not your fault. The only people to blame are the people who took you. No one else."

I say that, but I don't really believe it. I blame myself a lot for what happened.

"Yeah," he says quietly, biting his lip. "Okay."

In that moment, I notice the red in his cheeks again. I move to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of him before I rest a hand on his forehead. He closes his eyes. It's something I've noticed he does whenever I touch somewhere on his face, but I'm not sure why.

"You're still a little hot," I mutter.

"I'm fine," he says softly.

"Yeah?" I brush back a few stray pieces of his hair. "Do you feel sick or anything?"

He shakes his head. "I'm okay."

He opens his eyes again when I move my hand away. "Well you should get back to sleep."

"How'd you know I was even sleeping?" He asks, sinking down against the pillow I brought out for him earlier.

I smile, eyeing his messing hair. "Ain't hard to tell, kiddo."

He makes a face at me and I chuckle. It's nice to get some sense of normality around here again.

XxX

I fall asleep on the couch again and sometime before Darry goes to bed, he carries me back to my room. I don't remember when I became such a heavy sleeper, but I don't really mind it. Being able to sleep through noises that would normally wake me up is pretty nice.

Sometime later I'm woken again because someone is next to me, saying my name. I can feel their hand on my back, rubbing circles to coax me awake.

"Pone."

I don't move. "Hmm?"

"You need to get up, kiddo."

"Why?" I mumble.

"There's an officer here and he needs to talk to you."

I open my eyes and look at Darry, who is kneeling beside my bed. Without getting up, I rub my face, trying to get rid of my sleepiness. "I thought you said I already talked to them?"

I don't remember being in the hospital very much, but I can remember talking to the doctor and an officer while we were waiting for my x-rays. Darry told me the officer had stopped by our house again sometime when I was still out of it.

"You did," Darry says. "They have two statements from you."

"Then what does he want?" I moan, burying my face into my pillow.

Darry sighs in defeat. "They arrested a few suspects, and well…he needs you to look at some pictures and see if you can identify them."

I shut my eyes tight. I don't want to remember. I don't want to think about it. I just want it to be over and done with.

Darry rubs my back. "Pone?"

"Okay," I whisper. I don't know what I'm doing. "Send him in."


	21. Chapter 21

**I am _so_ sorry** **you guys. My laptop was out of commission for a while and when I finally got it back to working, I had a hard time writing this chapter. Likewise, it's a terrible chapter, but this is the third version of it and the only one I felt okay about. The other versions were mostly in Ponyboy's point of view and it didn't really work out well.**

**On a random note, I found this picture of a scene that was never used in The Outsiders (the movie) where Sodapop is comforting Ponyboy right after Johnny dies and right before Dally calls Darry. It's my new profile picture, so you all should go check it out and imagine what the scene would have been like and have fun pretending like I did! haha. **

**Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

Sodapop and I are waiting in the living room while the officer talks to Ponyboy. He said it was best that we weren't in there with Ponyboy so he didn't feel intimidated or obligated to answer wrong just to give an answer. I understand, even if I don't like it.

The officer, Andrew, is not in there very long before we hear him open and close Ponyboy's door and come down the hall. I stand and meet him.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

Andrew sighs and closes his notebook. "He wouldn't talk."

I blink. "What?"

"He just kept saying he doesn't know who took him. Wouldn't even look at the pictures."

I run a hand back through my hair. "I… I'm sorry. I don't know why he would do that."

"He could be scared," Andrew says. "Maybe they threatened him. Maybe he thinks they'll come back and get him if he rats them out."

"But you arrested suspects, right?" I ask. "I mean, you have some kind of proof the people you have are the ones who did it?"

He nods. "But unless we can get enough evidence or the boys admit to it, it's up to Ponyboy to tell us who hurt him. We're counting on his testimony. If not, we'll have to let the boys go."

He talks to us for a few more minutes before he leaves. He tells us he'll be back again to try to get some information from Ponyboy and that we should try to convince him to talk. I know how hard that is gonna be. Ponyboy is very stubborn and when he doesn't want to do something it's hard to convince him otherwise.

Sodapop and I mull over our options for a few minutes before we head to Ponyboy's room.

He's got the covers pulled over his head, feet sticking out at the other end. He's not moving. I wonder if he's asleep, but part of me knows he's not.

I sit down in the recliner and Sodapop stands beside me. "Pone, what's going on?"

He doesn't say anything. I rest a hand on his back, on top of the covers. "Talk to me, kiddo."

He says something, but it's too muffled for me to hear. I reach up and pull the covers back. His face is smashed into his pillow.

"What'd you say?"

He lifts his head and wipes at his eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Well I do," I say.

"Me too," Soda chimes in. "C'mon, Pone. Just tell us why you didn't wanna identify those guys. Are you scared?"

"I told you," he whines. "I don't know who took me."

"Pone," Sodapop says gently. "You never told us that. We thought you knew. You even told the doctor about the Socs chasing you and when you broke your leg."

"Which means you saw them," I say. "Which means you're lying, and we just want to know why you'd want to protect those Socs."

I can feel Sodapop tense next to me. It's a low shot, I know, but I just want to spark something in Ponyboy. To see some defense.

He lets out a moan and closes his eyes. "I'm not protecting anyone. I don't know who took me."

He doesn't miss a beat with his response, and if I hadn't known he was already lying, I'd definitely know now.

"We understand if you're scared," I say. "From what I know happened, you have every right to be."

Sodapop shoots me a look, but I don't glance his way. It's not the time or the place.

"I'm not scared," Ponyboy says weakly. His voice is starting to sound hoarse again, like he's losing it. He lets out a sob and buries his face into his pillow.

"Pone," Soda says gently.

Ponyboy's voice comes back muffled, "Please. I don't feel good. Please don't make me talk about this."

"Okay." Sodapop sits down on the edge of the bed and rubs Ponyboy's back. "Just relax."

I sit back, resigned.

XxX

Sodapop corners me in the kitchen afterwards. His eyes are glossy and he looks weary.

"You know, don't you?"

"Know what?" I ask.

"What happened to Ponyboy."

I sigh and lean back against the counter. "I know a little bit."

"How?"

"He had a nightmare," I say. "He just started going off about some stuff."

Sodapop is quiet for a moment before he says exactly what I fear he will. "I want to know."

"Sodapop, _I_ don't even want to know."

"Well I do," he says.

I study him for a moment. I'm not wondering whether I should tell him or not. I already know the answer to that. I'm just trying to figure out what his reaction will be.

"I'm sorry, little buddy," I finally say. "I'm not gonna tell you. Not right now at least."

Sodapop looks shocked and hurt. "That's not fair!"

"Soda, you're not in a place where you can handle this-"

"Are you kidding me?" He yells. "This is my little brother, Darry! And I deserve to know what happened to him! I deserve to know what those damn Socs did!"

"Just calm down," I say gently, glancing down the hall. "I know you think this isn't fair, but you need to trust me."

"This is bullshit," he says angrily. "You have no right to keep this from me."

"You're better off not knowing right now. Wait till things calm down a little bit."

Sodapop shakes his head. "This is fucking ridiculous."

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. "I don't understand why you're getting so upset."

"Because that guy just left this house with no information! Do you know what that means, Darry? Do you understand that? Something happened to Ponyboy and he doesn't want to put those Socs in the slammer, which means they're gonna go free, and nothing is gonna be changed. No one is doing anything! You know what happened to Ponyboy and _you're_ not doing anything."

His words knock the wind out of me. I don't have much time to mull them over because he's storming out of the kitchen.

I follow him to the living room. He hastily slides on his shoes while looking around for something.

"Soda," I say. Don't let him leave, I tell myself, don't let him walk out angry. He grabs his DX cap and opens the door.

"Sodapop, wait. Just stay and talk to me."

"I'm gonna go grab a shift at work," he says. "Don't wait up."

He slams the door behind him and I wince. I got a lot more of Sodapop's emotions than I wanted. More than I knew he was burying deep inside. But I also know this isn't all of it. It's probably not even close.

And I can't believe I just let him leave.

For a second, I swear I can hear someone saying my name. Then a noise catches my attention and I turn, trying to figure out where it's coming from. Suddenly I hear Ponyboy coughing and retching.

_Shit. _

I race down the hall and fling his door open, grabbing the trashcan in the corner and shoving it into his path. I'm too late, though. Ponyboy has already thrown up all over the bed.

He hurls again and I sit down on the edge of his mattress, resting a hand on his back. His shirt is damp and sticking to his skin. He coughs again and then tears start falling from his eyes.

"It's okay," I say. "Just take a deep breath."

He takes in a shaky breath and pushes himself away from the bile, collapsing onto his stomach.

"Nuh-uh," I say quickly, shaking his shoulder. "C'mon, kid. I gotta get this cleaned up and you gotta change."

He moans. "I don't wanna."

"Don't make me pick you up, Ponyboy."

"Darry," he groans. "Don't."

"Then get up," I prod, shaking him again. "C'mon, c'mon."

"Fine," he whines, slowly pushes himself up. A wince makes its way across his face.

I cringe. "You gotta stop putting pressure on that wrist, Pone."

"Why?"

"Cause it's sprained."

"Oh." Ponyboy rubs his eyes with his good hand. "Do you know why?"

I shake my head as I carefully help him up and throw his arm around my shoulder. He's starting to sound a bit delirious again, and I wonder if it's because he's sick or he just isn't fully awake.

"It's cause…" he trails off as he limps beside me down the hall. I glance his way.

"Are you all right?

"It's cause it was the only one not free," he says, ignoring my question. "And I wanted it to be."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Pone," I say gently.

"I know," he says. He swallows hard. "Why is Sodapop mad?"

"He's not mad."

"I could hear him yelling."

I hold back a sigh. "He was just upset about something. He's fine now."

"He's not here."

"I know," I say. "He had to work."

I leave Ponyboy in the bathroom and let him clean his face while I go rip the sheets and blankets off his bed and throw them in the washer. Before I start it, I head back to where he is and tell him to give me his pajamas so I can wash them, too.

But something weird happens.

Ponyboy backs away from me and shakes his head. He looks scared, like I just asked him to kill someone.

I frown. "What's wrong?"

He looks up at me with big eyes and doesn't speak. His face is still, and for a second I'm terrified he's about to pass out or have a stroke or something.

"Pone?" I ask cautiously. He shakes his head again, this time more to himself, and looks away.

"Can I keep them?" He asks quietly.

"I just need to wash them," I say slowly. "You can have them back after."

He wraps his arms around himself and sits down on the edge of the tub. My frown has become etched onto my face and I approach him carefully, like I would a frightened animal.

"How about your shirt?" I ask. "What if I just wash that?"

He bites his lip and then nods. I feel like I'm trying to bargain with a toddler and it's not something I'm used to. I've never had to deal with Ponyboy being on edge on like.

He slowly slides off his shirt and tosses it to me. I hang onto it for a second, noting how skinny he still is. It's scary. I can see the outline of his ribs too clearly and it looks like all of his bones are getting ready to poke through his skin.

"Darry?" Ponyboy asks meekly, hugging himself again. He laughs a little. "You're making me uncomfortable."

I make a face and look away. "Sorry. I'll go throw this in the wash and get you another shirt. Is that okay?"

He nods and I leave him in the bathroom to finish anything he needs to do. I throw the shirt in the washer and start the machine before I head to Sodapop's room and grab a white tee-shirt.

Like I predict, it's a little big on Ponyboy, but I know it comforts him. There's something about Sodapop that always comforts him.

I take him back to my room and he crawls under the covers and snuggles against my pillow. I rest a hand on his forehead to make sure his temperature feels normal and he closes his eyes at my touch, just like I expect him to.

A few minutes later, he's out like a light and I leave him be.

XxX

I toss and turn in Darry's bed, waking every so often with flashes of different Soc's faces popping into my mind. The fitful sleep reminds me too much of being kept in the warehouse when I'd start to fall asleep only to wake up over and over again. I should identify them…It tears at my conscience. I should, but I can't. I can't think about it. It's easier to pretend it didn't happen.

Sometime later, I have a nightmare that the Socs kidnap Sodapop and kill him in front of me. When I wake up, I'm in such a hysteria that Darry ends up calling Soda and making him leave work. When he gets here, he's out of breath and reeks of gasoline, but I don't care. I know he ran the entire way.

I don't miss the tension between him and Darry. I try to ask Soda about it, but he just shushes me and tells me not to worry. He hugs me and comforts me until I calm down and fall back to sleep

I wake up again to the phone ringing and Darry talking softly. It's dark outside. I must have slept all day, which I can't stand. I'm tired of sleeping so much. I'm tired of being tired.

Darry comes into the room, kicks off his shoes, slides off his shirt, and crawls into bed next to me. A little dazed, I go to ask him if something is wrong, but he just assures me that everything is fine and to go back to sleep.

He spends the night next to me and Sodapop doesn't come home.


	22. Chapter 22

**Guess who? It's me! **

**I decided that because I made you guys wait so long for that last chapter, I'd post another one faster. So here it is. It's pretty boring, but hey, it's something, right? **

**Thanks for all the reviews! Can't believe I hit 500! That's crazy. Sorry I didn't get to reply to anyone last chapter, but I'll try to on this one.**

**Please ignore any spelling or grammatical mistakes. Sometimes I shouldn't be allowed near a keyboard when it's late.**

**Enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

I dream that Darry is with me in the warehouse. He is trying to get me free, telling me that everything is going to be fine. I'm tied so tight that I can't move. I just stare at the ceiling and listen to his voice.

Then I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A Soc is sneaking into the warehouse. Darry doesn't see him.

I try to warn Darry, but whatever is in my mouth is preventing the words from being clear. He frowns and goes to get the thing on my mouth off, but I frantically motion to him with my head to turn around. Then he seems to get it.

He stands up quickly and turns, but before he can do anything, the Soc brings up a knife in his hand and drives it right into Darry's stomach.

I scream through my gag as Darry falls to his knees. I pull frantically on my bindings, but nothing will give. Darry brings his hands to his stomach and they come back red. I sob.

"Pone, it's time to get up."

The voice brings me back to reality. My leg jolts and I gasp, my eyes flying open. I stare at the ceiling for a moment, no longer breathing.

"Pone," the voice calls again as it gets closer. Darry. "C'mon, we gotta-"

He steps into the room and cuts off his sentence. "Ponyboy?"

I take in a shuddering breath and burst into tears. He hurries forward and sits on the edge of the bed, hands hovering over me, looking for something that he can fix.

"What is it?" He asks quickly. "What's wrong?"

I wipe at my face. My voice comes out shaky. "They s-stabbed you. I couldn't do anything."

He frowns for a second and then his face smoothes out. He rests a hand on my good leg. "I'm fine, Pone. I'm right here and I'm fine."

I nod, tears still pouring down my face as I sit up. Darry pulls me into a hug and lets me cry for a few minutes until I calm down again.

"Okay?" He asks, pushing me back and brushing some hair out of my face. I close my eyes and nod. Something about Darry being this gentle is weird to me, but it's also comforting. Darry doesn't usually touch me like he has been lately. In fact, Darry didn't really touch me at all before this. Not that much anyway.

I open my eyes and take a deep breath. "Sorry."

"No need." He squeezes my shoulders and lets go of me. "If you're okay now, you gotta get up."

"Why?"

"You have a doctor's appointment."

I groan and collapse back onto the bed. "You didn't tell me that."

"I'm telling you now," he says, standing up. "Get up."

"No need to be rude," I mutter.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm not being rude. I'm trying to keep a schedule. And you need a bath before we go."

I stick my tongue out at him and push myself back up, running my hands through my hair. It's too long. "Can I take a shower?"

"Do you really wanna try to shower with that cast?" He asks. I think about it for a moment and he groans. "You're not taking a shower, kid."

The truth is that I hate baths. Sincerely hate them. In fact, I've hated them since I was younger. My mom got really annoyed when I was little because she'd put me in the bathtub and come back to find that I was somewhere else in the house.

"I don't like baths," I say out loud.

"I'm aware of that," Darry says calmly. "But it's how it's gotta be right now. Besides, you took one the other day and you were fine."

"I was drugged," I say defensively.

"You're still drugged. Just pretend it's a shower."

"I'm not _that_ drugged," I mumble.

"You are cruisin' for a bruisin', little one."

I laugh and throw my feet over the side of the bed while Darry rummages through his closet for something. Then my heart sinks as I remember.

Sodapop.

He's not here. I know he's not, because you can always tell when he is.

"Darry?" I ask.

"What?"

"Where's Sodapop?"

Darry grabs a belt and turns around. "He's at work."

I bite my lip. "Where was he?"

"Last night?"

I nod. He slides the belt through the loops on his jeans while he talks. "He stayed at Two-Bit's."

"Is he mad at me?"

Darry stops and looks up at me. "You know he could never be mad at you."

I feel tears welling up in my eyes and blink them away quickly. "Then why isn't he here?"

Darry sighs and sits down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Sodapop is just dealing with some stuff right now. You don't need to worry about it. He just needs some space."

It doesn't comfort me, but I let it go.

Darry has the bath ready for me and he helps me undo all my bandages before leaving me to wash up. I slide into the tub and sling my cast over the side to keep it dry. I bring my wrists up in front of me and cringe. The bruises are still so dark, so deep. I let them sink below the warm water.

There are still bruises all over me. Ugly ones of all different colors. I haven't looked at my face in a while, so I don't know if those have faded, but I'm pretty sure they existed at some point. I remember being hit in the face more than once. It doesn't hurt anymore. Just the memories do.

I sink down under the water to wash my hair and watch it float all around me. It's definitely too long. I can't remember the last time it was ever this long. A lot of greasers tend to sport long hair, but our family has never been that kind. Darry always made sure we looked presentable, but Sodapop and I hate having long hair anyway.

After I'm done, Darry brings me sweats and a shirt of my own. I put Sodapop's shirt back on instead. It's too big for me, but it smells like him, and that makes me feel like things are okay.

Darry doesn't say anything about it when he helps me out of the bathroom and to the living room. He asks me what I want to eat and then brings me back a bowl of cereal, muttering about how he wishes I was eating something "real."

"What's this appointment for?" I ask with a mouthful.

"Your leg," Darry says as he passes through the room.

"My leg?"

"Yeah," he calls from down the hall. "They need to check to make sure it's healing okay. It was originally scheduled another week out, but they called and changed the appointment."

He comes back a second later and sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of me, motioning for my hand. I stick one out and let him wrap it with a bandage while I continue to eat with my other hand. We switch a moment later so he can wrap the other wrist and then he asks me how it feels while he grabs my fingers, feeling the temperature of them.

He stands and looks at his wristwatch before letting out a sigh.

"How is it that we're still gonna be late?" He mutters. "Doesn't matter how much time we have to get ready."

I snort. He takes my empty bowl from me, tosses me my shoes, and hurries away to the kitchen. I can only wear one of the shoes, so I throw the other back towards the door. I'm glad it's pretty low so it doesn't irritate the bruise around my ankle.

"Ready?" Darry asks as he comes back into the living room. I nod and stand.

XxX

Darry and I sit in the doctor's office, waiting for the results of my x-ray. Well, _I'm_ sitting. Darry is leaning against the counter, hands shoved into his pockets. I can't stop my good leg from bouncing up and down and I chew on my fingernails nervously. Something about this place makes me uncomfortable. I wish Soda was here.

"Relax," Darry says softly for the millionth time. Only a few of those times have been since we've been sitting here. Most of the other times had been when we were doing the actual x-ray. The lady doing it was real nice, but she had me place my leg in uncomfortable positions and then told me to stay still. When she left the room to go take the x-ray, I started to panic. I was lying on a table in the middle of a big room in a hospital gown, told to remain still. It was just…vulnerable feeling. Scary.

They had Darry come in and talk to me to make me stay calm while they finished.

"Kid, you're making _me_ nervous," Darry says.

"Sorry," I mutter, biting my thumb nail. A soft knock comes from outside the door before it opens. The doctor- - not my normal one, but I can't remember his name- - comes in holding the scans of my leg.

"Hello, hello," he says cheerfully. "How are we doing?"

"We're good," Darry says, knowing I won't speak first.

The doctor puts up the x-rays on the view box and turns the light on behind it. He flips off the main lights so we can see better.

"As you can see," he motions towards the pictures, "Ponyboy's leg is healing nicely. I realize we're not far into the healing process, but it's good to make sure everything is going smooth so we don't have to fix it later." He points to the picture next to it. "Here was the original break when it started to heal incorrectly. You can see how out of line it was."

He flips the main lights back on and comes over to me.

"May I?" He asks, motioning towards my leg. I nod. He lifts it gently and prods around the top of my thigh where the cast stops.

"Luckily we didn't have to operate or put any screws in his leg," he says as he continues to do whatever he's doing. I glance at Darry who places his hand up, silently telling me to be calm and still. "It was a pretty clean break and that's always a plus. No splintering."

He sets my leg down carefully and addresses me again. "The nurse said your bruises are looking better, but she has an ointment she wants you to start putting on them. May I take a look?"

I nod again and he carefully unwraps my wrists. He picks each one up and turns it before gently poking the bruises. I wince and pull my arm back.

"Does that hurt only when you touch it or all the time?" He asks.

"Just when I touch it," I say.

"How about your leg?" He asks, turning my head gently and touching around my eye. There must be a bruise there. He also feels around my neck. I don't remember bruises being there, but now that I think about it, I feel like I remember Darry also touching around that area when I was sleeping before.

"All the time," I say softly.

I can feel Darry's hard stare, but I don't glance his way. The doctor continues. "What about your face? Any pain there?"

I shake my head.

"And the sprained wrist? What about that?"

"Just when I put pressure on it."

He nods and opens one of the cupboards, pushing aside a few boxes before he grabs a tube of something. He opens it and squirts some on his fingers before gently smearing it over the bruises on my wrists.

"Have you been walking on your leg?"

"A little," I admit. He closes the tube and starts to wrap up my wrists again.

"That would explain," he says. "Your leg is a bit swollen. You really shouldn't be putting pressure on it. Have you tried using the crutches we gave you?"

I look at Darry in confusion. He shakes his head. "No one gave us crutches."

The doctor frowns. "That's strange. I thought someone would have given them to you when you left the hospital. Well, regardless, we'll give you some now. Make sure you use them and stay off that leg so it'll heal faster, but try to just use one so you're not putting more pressure on the sprained wrist."

I nod.

The doctor tells Darry to schedule another appointment and then gives him the ointment for my bruises with instructions on when to use it. We leave the office, with a new set of crutches, and start the drive home.

"Why didn't you tell me your leg was hurting?" Darry asks.

I shrug. "You've been pumping me full of pain killers already."

"But it still hurts you."

"It's not that bad," I say weakly, rubbing my forehead. "Darry, are there bruises on my face?"

Darry reaches over and pulls down the sun visor, flipping open the mirror to let me look for myself. I glance up at it.

My face looks terrible. There is, in fact, a bruise around my eye. It's not very dark, but it's noticeable. There are also faded yellowish colored bruises littered across the rest of my face. None of them look tuff. They all just look pathetic.

I shove the visor back up angrily and lean back in the seat, crossing my arms over my chest. Tears spring into my eyes and roll down my cheeks before I can stop them.

Darry reaches over and squeezes my knee.

XxX

"God damn it, Sodapop," I whisper loudly, clenching the phone tightly in my hand. "Stop this nonsense and come home."

"Then tell me what happened to Ponyboy," he says.

"You know I'm not gonna do that."

"Then I'm not coming home."

"You're acting like a child!" I yell, then immediately drop my voice. I glance towards the living room where Ponyboy has fallen asleep watching TV.

"Well so are you," Soda says calmly.

I sigh. "I'm trying to protect you. I thought you trusted me."

"I did."

My heart drops and I take deep breath, closing my eyes. "Ponyboy needs you, Soda. He needs you home. He's already unstable. You know that."

Sodapop is quiet for a long moment. His voice is broken when he speaks again. "You don't understand what this is doing to _me_, Darry. It's killing me."

"I know, Soda," I say. "I know. But…"

"Don't."

"What?" I ask.

"Don't come up with excuses. Don't try to guilt me into coming home. You do something about this, Darry. You do something to make it better because until you tell me, I can't do anything. It's all on you."

The lines goes dead and I pinch the bridge of my nose, hanging up the receiver.

XxX

Ponyboy eats dinner with me, but he barely says a word. He's tired, he's aching, he's frustrated, and he's hurt.

He hates the crutches the doctor gave him and refuses to use them. He gave them a try. He really did. Two-Bit came over and we lightened the mood, but what started out as jokes, and determination to walk with those crutches, soon turned into frustration and tears, until finally Ponyboy was begging me to take them away. There are already bruises forming under his arms.

His leg is bothering him. He took the lowest amount of pain killers that he could, telling me he's tired of sleeping all the time. But now he's just grumpy and still in pain. And he still has to take a ton of other pills as well.

He misses Sodapop. That much is written all over his face. He spent three weeks away from us, and even when he was first home, he didn't really get to see us. He was too groggy. Now he's here, he's aware, and Sodapop is gone.

It makes it worse that he knows I'm lying to him when I tell him there's nothing to worry about. He knows Sodapop wouldn't avoid him unless something was bothering him, and as much as I try to convince him Soda isn't mad at him, it's hard to make him think it's true when Soda isn't here.

It's tearing him apart.


	23. Chapter 23

**Have I told you guys how amazing you are? You make me feel like a rock star. Was that cheesy? Yeah, I felt the awkward cheesiness, too.**

**Anyway, thank you guys so much for all the reviews! I do know where this story is going, so don't be worried if you were worried. There's no worrying allowed here.**

**It's really late and I need to sleep. I've been in a bunch of rehearsals lately (I'm in another musical. Yay me!) and I've been exhausted, so now I'm being weird. I also spell really bad when I'm tired, so ignore all mistakes.**

**Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

**(The story, not my spelling mistakes.)**

**.**

**.**

"You wanna try those crutches again?"

"No."

"C'mon, Pone. You can't just mope around."

"I broke my leg and spent three weeks trapped in a warehouse. I can do what I want."

Darry sighs.

I'm in a bad mood. My leg is throbbing, my wrist is aching, I'm tired, I'm frustrated, and I'm sad. Sodapop still won't come home. Darry finally admitted it's because of something he did and not because of me. It makes me feel better, but not a lot.

Darry told me that Sodapop is having a hard time handling this. That it hurts him to see me hurt. It breaks his heart that he's not able to help me, but all I want is just him near me.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

"Why don't you take more medicine?" He asks. "I know you're hurting."

"They make me sleepy."

"Well you need to sleep anyway."

"They make me sick."

Darry sighs again. "You gotta work with me, Ponyboy. This bad attitude isn't helping."

"Yeah, I know," I say, rubbing my forehead. He sets a plate of food in front of me. The smell makes me nauseous.

"I'm gonna take a shower. Will you be all right here?" He asks.

"Jeeze, Darry. This ain't a convalescent home."

He rolls his eyes. "But you _are_ a convalescent, so shut your mouth and let me take care of you."

I grab my fork and grumble under my breath, poking at my food. He heads off to take a shower and I wait carefully until I hear the water start before I jump up from the table and limp over to the phone.

I listen for a moment to make sure Darry is actually in the bathroom before I dial.

"DX station, how can I help you?"

It's Steve's voice that answers and I sigh to myself. "Hey, Steve."

"Oh, hey, kid. They letting you use a phone now?"

I snort. "Not really. Darry's in the shower."

"Good idea. So what do you need?"

"Is Sodapop around?" There's another voice with Steve that I can't make out. He must move the receiver away from his mouth because he sounds far away when he talks again.

"You have to pay for- oh, okay." He yells something to someone and then comes back to the phone. "Sorry, kid. He's with a customer."

I sigh out loud. "Yeah, all right. Thanks."

"Sorry, Pone."

I hang up the phone. It's a sad day when Steve Randle is sympathetic to me.

XxX

I lay on my stomach on the couch and watch TV. Darry tries to get me to do something. Anything. But I won't. I just lay there for a long time, not really paying attention to what I'm watching.

I hear him yelling on the phone later. I know he's talking to Sodapop. Part of me wants to get up and talk to him while I can, but the other part of me doesn't, knowing it'll probably only hurt worse, especially if he doesn't want to talk.

I try not to think about it. It doesn't hurt, I tell myself. The only thing that hurts is my leg…and my arm. Well, a lot of parts on my body.

Darry comes into the living room. "I gotta go somewhere real quick. Two-Bit is gonna come over and keep you company."

"Okay."

"Do you need anything?" He asks, grabbing his keys.

"No."

He eyes me for a moment. I don't meet his gaze. I stare at the bright TV screen, trying to ignore his lingering look. He finally sighs and opens the door.

"See you in a few."

"Okay."

He closes the door and I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. There's a pain in my chest that's spreading. A hole. It makes me feel like I'm suffocating. It's everything and it's nothing at all.

I sit up and rub my face before fisting my hands into my hair, resting my elbows on my knees. The door opens again.

"Why won't he talk to me?" I ask without looking up. My voice sounds broken.

The weight shifts next to me and I feel a hand on my knee, squeezing gently.

"He'll come around," Two-Bit says. "Just give him some time."

"I don't have time," I mumble. Tears spring into my eyes, but I blink them away quickly. I'm not hurt. I'm just sore. That's all it is.

"Can you get my pain medicine?" I ask.

"Sure."

Two-Bit gets up and returns a few minutes later with my medicine and a glass of water. I gladly down the pills, taking the right amount this time. Anything to kill this ache inside of me.

Two-Bit is giving me a weird look. He reaches out and rests a hand on my forehead. I close my eyes, leaning back into the couch.

"Why do you do that?" He asks gently, hints of curiosity in his voice.

"What?" I mutter. He moves his hand away, but I don't open my eyes.

"Nothing. Do you wanna go back to your room? Those things are gonna knock you out in a second."

I don't need him to tell me. I can already feel it.

I shake my head and sprawl out on the couch, getting comfortable. He throws a blanket over me and I'm out within a few seconds.

XxX

"This isn't a game, Sodapop."

Standing behind the counter at the DX, a tired and sweaty looking Sodapop sighs. "I'm not saying it is."

"Then stop acting like it and come home."

"Tell me what happened to Ponyboy and I will."

"God damn it, Sodapop!"

An old man browsing one of the magazine racks looks up and I let out a breath. I turn back to Soda and lower my voice.

"Sodapop, you need to knock this off right now. Ponyboy won't do anything anymore. He's becoming depressed."

Sodapop bows his head. "I…"

He doesn't continue. I can't do this anymore.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, I give into defeat. "Come home, Soda, and I'll tell you what happened to Ponyboy."

He looks up in surprise. "Really?"

"Sure, whatever," I say. "You can regret knowing later."

He rolls his eyes and looks at the clock behind him. "I'll come home after my shift. Ponyboy will be okay until then, right?"

"I'll tell him you're coming home. That should tide him over. Don't be surprised if he's mad at you, though. You really hurt him."

Sodapop sighs. "I know."

XxX

I wake up screaming sometime later.

I hear something break in the kitchen and then someone is hurrying into the room. I expect it to be Darry, but it's not. It's still Two-Bit.

He hurries over as I push myself up and shove my covers off me. My breath is coming out hard and I'm frantic. I need something. I don't know what.

"Ponyboy," Two-Bit says, reaching for me.

"No!" I yell and then try to calm myself down. "Don't touch me. Don't. Please."

He brings his hand back and I shove the heels of my own hands into my eyes. I swallow hard, my body convulsing with every breath.

"Breathe, Ponyboy," Two-Bit says. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

I don't remember what I dreamed of and I don't know if I should be thankful of that or not. The dreams I don't remember always have a worse outcome in the real world when I wake up. Although, that was before all this happened. The same rules might not apply.

I let out a long moan.

"What is it, Pone?" Two-Bit asks.

I shake my head, my hands still pressed up against my eyes, trying to erase everything. "I don't wanna be there anymore. Make it go away, Two-Bit. Just make it go away."

I hear Two-Bit suck in a breath and then his hand is on my back. I don't protest the touch.

"I wish I could say something to make you feel better," he murmurs. I let out a shaky breath.

"You can't."

"Well could you say something to make _me_ feel better?"

I lower my hands and look at him. Distress is painted all over his face. He doesn't know what to do and I shouldn't have put him in this position.

"When I was there," I say slowly. "One of the Socs was talking about two greasers beating up one of his friends because they were looking for me. I knew it was you and Steve."

Two-Bit laughs wearily. "You have no idea how many people we beat up."

I give him a small smile. "It gave me hope. I knew you were still out there looking for me."

"We never stopped," Two-Bit says softly, rubbing my back. "Not once."

For some reason, the block around my emotions opens a little bit. I need to tell someone something or else it's all going to explode.

"They almost found me once," I say. "The fuzz."

I cringe, thinking about the Soc that dressed up like a cop. The drill going towards my leg. Throwing up. Blacking out. Waking up to my hands being tied together, tape being pressed over my mouth. Commotion. Chaos. Blackness.

Breathe. _Breathe._

"Ponyboy?"

"They were right outside the warehouse," I continue numbly. "The Socs stuffed me in the trunk of their car. Told me if I screamed they'd break my other leg."

"That's why you told me and Darry you were in a car even though you told the doctor you had been in the same place the whole time. The car never moved," Two-Bit mutters to himself. I nod.

"Would they have done it?" He asks softly. "Would they have broken your leg?"

I shrug. It doesn't hurt. I won't let it hurt. "Maybe. I didn't want to risk it. They were right there, Two-Bit. They were right there and they left without me."

"I'm so sorry, Ponyboy."

"Did Sodapop look for me?"

"All the time," Two-Bit says. "He joined our search party. He was a wreck while you were gone."

"Then why won't he come home?" I whisper.

'He's just hurt, Pone. He doesn't know how to handle everything."

The front door opens suddenly, ending our conversation. Darry is back. He stops in the doorway and looks between the two of us, his face turning to worry.

"What's wrong?" He asks. "Are you okay, Ponyboy?"

I sigh. "I'm fine. I just had a bad dream." A wave of pain washes over me. The hole starts spreading again. "Do you….could you guys just give me a minute? By myself?"

Darry looks at Two-Bit who nods and stands up. He pulls Darry off to the kitchen where I know he'll probably just tell him everything I told him. I don't care, though. I kind of wanted him to. Then I don't have to do it myself.

Quietly, I push myself up from the couch and find my crutches in the hall.

Now, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. I know that and I'm willing to admit it. But what I'm about to do is no doubt the dumbest idea that's ever come to my mind. I know it, but I'm not willing to let that stop me.

If Sodapop won't come home, then I'll go to him. If he won't talk to me on the phone, then he'll talk to me in person. I can't wait any longer. I need him now and I won't have another time like this.

So I take my crutches, look back to make sure no one is coming, slowly push open the front door…

And I go.


	24. Chapter 24

**Sorry I didn't get to reply to anyone! I've been really busy and I wanted to get this out quickly cause you guys are amazing.**

**Thank you for the awesome reviews!**

**Ahh!**

**Enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

"Go."

"What?" I ask, snapping my head up.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I've been talking to you for the past five minutes and you've been somewhere else. Just go home and talk to your brothers."

I glance at the clock on the wall. "But I have to work till five."

"I'll take care of it." Steve shoves me playfully as the phone starts ringing. "Now go."

I give him a smile and hop over the counter, hurrying out of the store. I wince from the sun and cover my eyes as I get in the car. It's a hot day, the kind this state is famous for. The kind I hate.

I back out of the parking lot without looking. My mind is a swirl of emotions. What do I say to Ponyboy? What will I do once I find out what happened to him? What if he's really as mad as Darry has warned?

I sigh. Up ahead, a person is sitting on the side of the road. It's not an unusual thing, especially when it's this hot outside, but something about their posture reminds me of Ponyboy

As I get closer, I realize to my horror that it _is_ Ponyboy. I almost don't believe it, but the cast on his leg, the bandage on his wrist, and the messy hair confirms my belief.

I slam on the breaks and pull to the side of the road. He doesn't seem to notice me. I jump out of the car.

"Ponyboy!"

He looks up as I rush forward. I expect him to look surprised or confused, but his expression stays the same. He looks hot and miserable.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask as I kneel down next to him, looking for any signs of a new injury.

"I was trying to come see you," he says irritably. "But I can't use these damn crutches."

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he says. "I'm just tired."

I give him another look over. "What do you mean you were trying to come see me?"

"You won't talk to me and you won't come home. I wanted answers."

I sigh and sit down on the curb next to him. "I was on my way home now. Darry should have told you. Does he know where you are?"

Ponyboy scowls. "What do you think?"

"You're gonna be in so much trouble, Ponyboy," I say, cringing when I think about what Darry must be going through. "We should get home."

He grabs his crutches and slowly pulls himself to his feet. "So is that it? Are you not gonna tell me why you've been ignoring me?"

"I haven't been ignoring you," I say, slinging his arm over my shoulder and helping him limp to the car. "I was upset with Darry."

"You still talked to Darry."

I open the door. Ponyboy throws his crutches in and climbs in after. I hurry around to the other side and get in.

"That was different," I say as I start the engine and slip the car into drive. "He was trying to…I wasn't ignoring you, Ponyboy. I just…it was a lot to handle."

"Don't tell _me _that," he says. "I'm the one who went through it."

I glance his way. He's honestly and sincerely furious with me. I can't remember a time when he's ever been mad at me.

"I know," I say softly. "I'm so sorry, Ponyboy. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I just didn't know what to do."

"Well ignoring me definitely seems like the best option."

I sigh. "I know you're hurt-"

"You have no idea!" He shoves his crutches away from him, trying to make room in the small space. "I needed you, Sodapop. I needed something to make all of this feel okay and you weren't there. I spent three weeks thinking I was going to die without ever seeing you again. Do you know how that felt?"

My insides twist painfully. "I know I was stupid. I'm sorry, Ponyboy. I won't leave you again. I promise."

He doesn't say anything. I can feel him fuming as he stares out the window. Darry had warned me. I really hurt him.

We pull up to the house and someone yanks back the curtains, looking out the window. A second later they are gone and running out the door. It's Two-Bit.

He makes it to Ponyboy's side of the car before I can get out. He rips open the door and looks over him quickly.

"God damn it, Ponyboy," he says. He pulls him into a relieved hug. "Don't ever do anything like that again."

"I'm sorry," Ponyboy mutters. Two-Bit pushes him back at arms length.

"Darry is gonna kill you."

"Yeah, I look forward to it," Ponyboy says, sliding out of the car. He reaches back for his crutches, but I take them for him. "Is he here?"

"No, he's out looking for you." Two-Bit glances my way. "Where'd you find him?"

"Sitting on the side of the road," I say. "He was about halfway to the DX."

"Damn, Ponyboy," Two-Bit sighs, helping Ponyboy up to the house. "You got pretty far."

Ponyboy lets out a laugh and then, without any warning, he stops moving and starts throwing up. He doubles over as he heaves and Two-Bit tries to hold him up, but Ponyboy slips out of his grasp and collapses onto his knees.

"Ponyboy!" I throw myself down next to him as Two-Bit kneels.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Ponyboy says wearily, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "It's the heat…and the walking. Not a good mix."

"You shouldn't have been walking that much anyway," Two-Bit says. "Sodapop, can you help him inside? I'll call Darry and his doctor."

I nod while Ponyboy lets out a groan. "Don't call my doctor. I'm fine, Two-Bit. I promise."

"Can't hear you, I'm the phone," Two-Bit yells back as he hurries up the stairs and into the house.

"Do you think you can stand?" I ask. Ponyboy nods, but let's me help him to his feet. I leave his crutches laying in the yard where I dropped them. I'll get them later.

I help him inside and have him sit down on the couch. Two-Bit is busy on the phone, so I go to the kitchen and get a glass, filling it with cold water. I bring it back to Ponyboy and sit down next to him.

"How do you feel?"

He takes a long drink of the cool liquid. "I'm fine."

"Are you really fine? Or are you just saying that?"

He gives me a look. "What do you think?"

"All right," Two-Bit announces as he comes back into the living room. "Your doctor will be here soon. Not sure where Darry is, but we'll probably hear him before we see him."

"Great," Ponyboy mutters, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and leaning his cheek onto his hand.

"Uh…well." Two-Bit shifts awkwardly on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll just…be in the kitchen. Leave you two to talk."

"Don't bother," Ponyboy says, closing his eyes tiredly. "I've already said everything I want to."

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach.

XxX

"Where is he?" The door slams loudly. Two-Bit and I look up as an angry Darry stands in the doorway.

"He's in his room with the doctor," I say.

Darry's anger mixes with concern. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"He threw up and collapsed outside," Two-Bit says. "It was probably just from the heat, but we didn't want to take any chances."

Darry sighs deeply and sits down next to me on the couch. "Where'd you find him?"

"He was about halfway to the DX," I say. "He wanted to demand answers from me. I thought you were gonna tell him that I was coming home?"

"I didn't get a chance. I barely talked to him before he asked me and Two-Bit to leave and then he was out of here."

"Pretty sneaky," Two-Bit mutters.

"Yeah, well," Darry rubs his forehead. "He's gonna be grounded forever for that one."

"Don't blame him, Darry," I say. "Let me take the fall for this one. I should've talked to him."

"He still shouldn't have snuck out. Not in his condition."

"But-"

"Darrel." We all look up. Ponyboy's doctor- -a nice man whose name I can never remember- - is standing at the front of the hall. "Can I use your phone?"

"Yes, of course." Darry gets to his feet and starts to lead him to the phone, asking, "Is everything okay?"

They are out of the room before I can hear the answer. I glance at Two-Bit nervously. Neither of us say anything until Darry comes back into the living room without the doctor.

"He's calling a nurse," Darry tells us. "He needs to give Ponyboy an IV."

"Why?" I ask.

"I guess he's dehydrated. The doctor said he's probably suffering from a mild case of heat exhaustion."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Two-Bit asks worriedly.

Darry shakes his head. "It's only dangerous when it starts to get worse, but the doctor says it's not that bad. He thinks the exercise with Ponyboy's condition just took a toll on his body. The main problem is getting fluids into Ponyboy because he's still throwing up."

I run my hands over my face as the doctor comes back into the room. "The nurse will be here in a few minutes. I'm going to go back and keep a watch on Ponyboy's vitals. I'd appreciate if one of you would come join me before we give him his IV. He always does better when someone he's comfortable with is in the room."

There's an awkward moment of silence before Darry speaks up. "Uh, I'll come back with you."

I know it's the way it's gotta be, but it still hurts.

XxX

The doctor leaves after the nurse administers the IV. He tells me he'll be back tomorrow to check on Ponyboy. The nurse stays.

Ponyboy has no problems when she pokes the needle into his vein. He just looks annoyed and frustrated. He gives short answers to everything she asks him. She doesn't seem to mind his attitude as much as I do.

"Ponyboy, be nice," I chide.

He scowls.

Not too long later, he starts to become sleepy and bored. The nurse tells him it's okay to rest and he closes his eyes, drifting off within a few moments.

There's a knock on his door and Two-Bit peaks his head in. He looks worried.

"Darry?"

"What's up, Two-Bit?" I ask, walking over to him.

"Mrs. O'Brian is here."

"Who?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Mrs. O'Brian…from the State…You know, your social worker…"

I groan. Why now?


	25. Chapter 25

Mrs. O'Brian looks at Ponyboy, then at me, then back to Ponyboy again.

"What did you do to him?" She finally asks.

My eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"From my records, he should be a lot farther into healing than this."

The nurse, who is still in the room changing out Ponyboy's bag of fluids, rounds on her. "Excuse me, but this boy is my patient and I will not have you in here accusing his brother of causing this. Ponyboy is ill and fragile and he's right where he needs to be in healing. Darrel has been nothing but supportive and loving. He's been with Ponyboy through every step. I will not allow you to stay in here and make such accusations when this boy needs his brothers and needs rest. If you're going to continue, then I need to ask you to leave."

Mrs. O'Brian's lips form a thin line, but she nods and excuses herself.

I look at the nurse as she continues with her duties and I hold back a grin. "Thank you."

She glances my way and gives me a quick smile. "No problem, Darrel. I see how much you care for Ponyboy. I couldn't let her talk that way."

I look down at my sleeping brother and nod.

Mrs. O'Brian leaves after inspecting our house and questioning Sodapop. She carries an attitude of being dissatisfied, but we don't hear from her again, which means she had nothing to report. I wonder if the nurse scared her off.

Ponyboy sleeps off and on after the nurse leaves. I wait until the next day when he actually wakes up to drill into him about why he left and how stupid it was.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. But he doesn't try to explain himself.

I tell him he's grounded for the rest of his life and he nods. There's something worse about a Ponyboy who doesn't fight back.

He stays upset with Sodapop for the rest of the week. He doesn't talk much, he sleeps a lot, and every once in a while he asks me about school and what he's supposed to do. I tell him we'll figure things out, but the answer only annoys him.

The doctor comes back and tells me that Ponyboy is healing nicely, but seems to be showing signs of depression. He tells me to get Ponyboy active and keep his mind off things.

But I have to go back to work, so Two-Bit comes over to hang out with Ponyboy. I tell him to get Ponyboy up. Have him walk outside, drive him to a movie, do something. Anything.

It keeps Ponyboy from spiraling into a deep depression, but he's still going through things on autopilot. He starts talking to Sodapop again, but only surface conversations and nothing deep. He's still hurt and he still hasn't really forgiven Soda.

He asks about school one night at dinner and I tell him again that we'll figure things out.

"Damn it, Darry!" He shouts, getting to his feet. In that motion, he grabs his glass off the table. "Stop saying that!"

A split second later the glass is gone from his hand and hitting the wall across the room, shattering into a million pieces.

Everything goes quiet.

Sodapop and I are looking at Ponyboy in shock. He's never lost his temper like this before. He covers his mouth with his hands and his eyes go wide in horror.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry. I don't…'

He breaks off, looking down at the glass.

I put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly. "It's all right, Pone."

He shakes his head as tears pour out of his eyes and over his fingers. "I'm sorry. I didn't…I didn't mean to."

"I know," I say. "Why don't you go lay down while I get this cleaned up?"

He nods, takes his crutches, and leaves.

Sodapop goes to check on him a few minutes later and finds him buried under his bed covers, crying. I stand outside in the hallway and listen.

"What, Pone?" Sodapop is asking.

"I don't know," Ponyboy says brokenly. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you," Sodapop says softly.

I hear Ponyboy sniff back tears. "Everything is wrong with me."

"_Nothing_ is wrong with you," Sodapop says again. I step into the doorway, but neither of them seem to notice me. Sodapop has pulled back the covers to reveal Ponyboy's face and he has a hand on his back, rubbing circles.

"You went through a hard time," he says. "No one is expecting you to be fine."

"But I should be fine," Ponyboy says, rubbing his eyes with shaky hands.

"You will be. Just give it time. You're okay, Pone."

"No." Ponyboy shakes his head. "Nothing is okay."

His words hit me hard and I step away from the door, leaving them to finish talking. It's the first time in a while that Ponyboy actually _talks _to Soda and when I see Soda later, I can tell it made him feel better, but it's not helpful to anything else. Ponyboy is having weird mood swings and I have to figure out what to do about getting him back into school when he still won't tell the police who took him.

I wonder if there is even a point in making him go back when he's so far behind.

"What do we do?" Sodapop asks me sometime later.

I shake my head. "I don't know, Soda."

He's quiet for a moment, thinking things over. "We should move."

"What?"

"Think about it, Darry. Ponyboy is probably never going to feel safe and those Socs are always going to be out there."

I sigh. "I get what you're saying, but it's not that easy. We can barely afford to live in this house. We could never sell it. Not to mention we'd have to leave Steve and Two-Bit. Ponyboy doesn't have many friends as it is. I couldn't do that to him."

Sodapop runs his hands over his face. "I just want him to be okay."

"I know," I say. "I do, too."

XxX

To my surprise, both Steve and Two-Bit come over to keep me company one day after school. Two-Bit has been rather persistent in taking me out or at least getting me outside, but this time we find stuff to do in the house.

Two-Bit teaches me how to cheat when playing cards against Steve, who teaches me how to act like he doesn't know Two-Bit is cheating and beat him anyway. They make an interesting pair and mostly I watch them banter with each other, wondering what life would be like if I never got to see them again.

"Pone?"

I look up and discover they are both staring at me, no longer fighting over the card game.

"What?"

"Are you about to throw up?" Steve asks. "Cause I think we deserve a fair warning."

I frown. "What are you talking about?"

Two-Bit gives Steve a cautious glance. "You look a little green."

"I'm fine," I say.

"Are you sure? I could get you som-"

"Kid says he's fine," Steve interrupts. "Stop trying to baby him and let's play some cards."

"Don't be a sore winner, Stevie. Besides, I can baby Ponyboy all I want. Right, kid?"

I groan and run my hands through my hair. Two-Bit had taken me to get it cut. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Majority wins," Steve says smugly, sticking his tongue out.

"Majority hates you," Two-Bit replies. I roll my eyes and lean down, trying to shove my fingers into my cast.

"You know that's not gonna work," Steve tells me. I glare at him.

"Come to the kitchen," Two-Bit says, standing up. "Let doctor Two-Bit help."

This time Steve rolls his eyes. We get up and follow Two-Bit to the kitchen and watch as he digs around in one of the drawers.

"You should find out where he got his doctorate from," Steve mutters.

"C'mere." Two-Bit motions me forward. He hands me a long, thin wooden stick and I give him a worried look.

"What if I drop it?"

"Prop your foot up on something," Steve says in a bored voice. He opens the fridge and starts rummaging around. "Where's the cake?"

"You ate it, stupid," Two-Bit says. Steve starts toward him, but I interject quickly.

"Help me prop my foot up, will you?" I ask. Steve backs down and returns to the fridge while Two-Bit lets me lean back into him and prop my cast up on the table. He helps me stand while I shove the wooden stick down my leg.

Once I get the itch, I pull the stick out and stumble for a second to keep my balance. Two-Bit holds me up, but I fall back far enough where my cast is no longer on the table.

My foot slams down hard.

My vision blurs in front of me and there's a high pitched ringing in my ears as the world tilts away from me. I can feel someone shaking me and can faintly hear them calling my name.

"Ponyboy, Ponyboy!"

I blink a few times and everything comes back into focus.

I'm on the ground. Two-Bit is the one holding my shoulders and his face is a mixture of panic and concern. Steve is kneeling beside him.

"Ponyboy!"

I shake my head to clear it. "I'm all right."

"Glory," Two-Bit sighs, letting me go. "Are you sure? That looked really painful."

"I'm fine," I say. I rest my hands on the ground to keep me steady. The pain is beginning to fade.

"Props to you for being an idiot," Steve says to Two-Bit.

"You're the one who told him to prop his leg up!" Two-Bit replies defensively.

"I didn't tell him to make it so-"

"Stop," I say softly. "It was my fault. Just stop."

"You don't need to defend-" Steve starts, but this time Two-Bit cuts him off.

"Steve, stop," he says seriously. Steve gives him a look and then glances my way. For the first time since ever, Steve does what Two-Bit tells him to do.

"C'mon, Pone," Two-Bit says, pulling me to my feet. "Do you wanna go sit down?"

I swallow hard. The air around us has changed. "No. Let's just go back and play cards."

We walk back to the dining room quietly and sit down. Once the game begins, Steve starts up with his sarcastic remarks and he and Two-Bit bicker with each other like nothing happened. I let out a sigh of relief.

A minute later, there's a knock on the door. Steve and Two-Bit don't seem to hear it.

"I got it," I say, standing up and limping to the front of the house . I open the door and, in the same motion, take a step back as I see who's standing there.

"Hey, kid."

I don't move. "What're you doing here?"


	26. Chapter 26

**PLEASE READ!**

**I went back and rewrote the last chapter. By that, I mean I added in stuff, like Sodapop and Ponyboy talking when Pony was upset.**

**Last chapter I received over 40 reviews and that just blew my mind. I'm so glad you guys are so supportive, so I decided to go back and give you more detail. If you're reading this in the present, then go back to last chapter and read again. If you're reading this sometime in the future when the chapter is already different and you didn't have a chance to read it the way it was before, then you'll have no idea what's going on! Ooh, time travel.**

**I'm sorry for the wait, but things have been hectic. My druggie neighbor broke into my house and I caught him as he was coming out with all of my electronics (Laptop, camera, etc) and I was able to save my stuff, but my dad wasn't as lucky because he'd already gotten that stuff before I got home. We live in a small town and we have like two cops who deal with everything here, so it's hard to have anything get done about it.  
><strong>

**Le sigh, haha.**

**Anyway, enough of my sob story. Thanks for all the reviews!  
><strong>

**Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

"I just wanted to-"

"Who's at the door, Pone?" Two-Bit calls.

I keep my eyes level with Jay as I respond. "No one."

"Then come back and let's play some cards!"

Jay sighs and runs a hand back through his hair. "I just wanted to check on you."

"Why?" I ask. My voice sounds calm, but my heart is pounding in my ears.

"Ponyboy-" I look back as Steve cuts himself off. He eyes Jay for a split second before his face melts into anger.

"Oh, hell no." Steve starts forward. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Steve, it's fine," I try, but it's too late. Steve pushes past me and shoves Jay back, making him stumble.

"I'm not looking for trouble," Jay says slowly, raising his hands. "I just wanted to talk to Ponyboy."

"No chance," Steve says. "Get the hell out of here before I beat your face in."

"Go," I tell Jay. "Now."

Jay nods and hurries down the porch steps as Two-Bit comes into the living room.

"What's going on?" He spies Jay heading towards his Mustang and starts forward like Steve did. This time I shove my arms out and push him back.

"Stop!" I yell.

He frowns, but doesn't fight against me.

I let out a groan, cradling my wrist to my chest. "Damn it."

"Are you okay?"

"What the hell was that?" Steve pushes us both so he can close the door. "Are you friends with a Soc?"

"Shut up," I mutter, rubbing my arm.

"After what they did to you? Really?" He asks.

Two-Bit gives me a cautious glance. "Steve, maybe you should-"

"Shut up," Steve says sharply. "Was he one of the people who kidnapped you, Ponyboy?"

I brush him off and limp past him. "No."

He grabs my arm to pull me back and then something weird happens. The next few seconds move by in a blur and before I know it, I find Two-Bit quickly pushing me back and holding me there, as though keeping me from something. Steve is behind him, pinching the bridge of his nose and cursing under his breath as time catches up with itself.

It takes a moment for me to realize what happened.

I _hit Steve_.

My hand gives a painful throb to remind me of what I did. I look down at it and then at Two-Bit in horror.

"I…" I fish for words. "I'm sorry. I don't…"

Two-Bit bites back a smile and looks at Steve, who is smirking.

I frown. "What?'

"Don't apologize, Pone," Two-Bit says, letting go of me.

"But…why?" I ask, nonplussed. "I hit him."

"Like a girl," Steve mutters, checking his fingers to see how much his nose is bleeding. "But at least you hit me."

"I…why is that a good thing?"

"Because you got mad," Steve says.

Two-Bit smiles. "Because you're feeling something, Pone."

I give them both a confused look. My knuckles and wrist are throbbing, too fragile to handle the pressure of hitting something. I don't feel good.

"You guys are weird," I mutter.

XxX

It's sometime during the evening after everything has calmed down when Sodapop catches me in the kitchen making dinner. During the commotion of Ponyboy leaving the house and getting sick the week before, he didn't realize I hadn't told him what happened to him and he completely forgot about it. I had been thankful for that, but now I know my time has run up.

"You said you'd tell me."

I sigh. "I know, I know. Just wait till after dinner, all right?"

"All right." He hovers around, trying to find a chance to grab something from what I'm making.

"Go wake your brother up," I say.

He gives me a loopy grin. "You sound like a parent."

He ducks out of the room before what I throw at him can hit him, laughing as he goes. I roll my eyes with a grin.

Sodapop returns a few minutes later looking much more serious than he had when he left.

"He doesn't want to come," he says. "He doesn't feel good."

I groan inwardly and turn the oven down. "Make sure this doesn't burn, will ya?"

"Sure, Dar."

I leave him in the kitchen and head down the hall to Ponyboy's room. I knock once on the closed door before I open it and enter.

Ponyboy appears to be sleeping, laying on his stomach with his face buried into his pillow. I can tell by his breathing that he's awake, though. I've listened to him sleeping so much that I know the sound by heart.

"Ponyboy, come eat."

"No," he says softly, not opening his eyes. "I don't feel good."

"Eating will make you feel better," I try to persuade.

"My stomach is sick." He sounds a lot like a child, but his voice carries a hint of fatigue that children don't have. "If I eat, I'll throw up."

I sigh and look down at the bag of water on the ground. It had been a bag of ice not too long ago. I gave it to Ponyboy for his sore wrist, which was giving him some troubles. Two-Bit and Steve both told me about the Soc showing up and Ponyboy punching Steve in the face. I resisted the urge to punch him in the face myself for making Ponyboy upset, but there was already a bruise forming, so I let Ponyboy take the victory.

Ponyboy, however, didn't talk about it. When I tried to make him, he didn't say anything at all. He accepted the ice and went to his room to lay down.

I examine him now, looking for signs that tell me I might need to call his doctor. He's a little pale, but nothing looks too out of place. He hasn't been getting much sun anyway, so the paleness has become normal. Even with Two-Bit taking him out, he hasn't been able to handle the heat.

"Stop," he moans.

I snap back to reality. "What?"

"Staring at me."

He hasn't opened his eyes and I wonder how he knew I was watching him.

"Sorry," I mutter. "Does your wrist hurt?"

He shakes his head and pulls his covers over his face. I get the point.

"I'll save you some dinner in case you're hungry later."

"Kay," he replies with a sigh.

XxX

I wait until Sodapop and I have sat down for dinner before I tell him what happened.

I give him everything. How they'd hit Ponyboy when he was tied up and couldn't protect himself. How they pretended they were going to drill into his leg. How they tied him and shoved him into the trunk of a car because the police showed up, and how they told him if he screamed, they'd break his other leg (that one has bothered me ever since Two-Bit told me.) And how they grabbed his broken leg and twisted it.

I watch Sodapop's face go from horror, to pain, to anger, to hurt. When I finish, he finally bursts into tears.

"How could they?" He asks, sobbing. "How could they, Darry?"

"I don't know, little buddy," I say softly. I reach over and grasp his arm to give him some comfort.

He cries for another hour and our meal goes forgotten. I can't say anything to comfort him because there's nothing to say. It isn't fair and we both know it. So many bad things happen to Ponyboy. He's still a child. It's just not fair.

"It should have been me," Soda says brokenly.

"Soda," I sigh. "Don't think like that. We didn't have an option. It's not like you could have taken his place."

"But I would have," he whispers. "In a heartbeat."

"So would I," I say. "You know that. But we can't dwell. We have to deal with what's been given to us."

Soda nods and wipes his face. "I don't wanna deal with this right now. I just want to go be with him."

"Then go," I say. "Go be with him."

He nods again and gets up from the table. I run my hands over my face and think about what it's gonna be like now that he knows.

I leave all the dishes and uneaten food on the table and turn in early. Sodapop spends the night with Ponyboy like he used to. I hear him crying when I walk by.

XxX

I dream that I'm sick. I'm walking through a forest and my stomach hurts. Everything inside me is hot. The sun beats down on me and I don't make it far before I finally collapse and puke onto the ground. Dizzily, I look up at the sky.

I hear it before I see it, but it doesn't take longer after the sound for it to come into my vision. A tree is falling. I watch it crash into the ground. Then another falls, this one closer to me. Then everything starts to crumble.

I scramble to my feet to run, but it's too late. A tree is about to hit me.

"Kid!"

The sound happens in real life and I feel hands on me, shaking me. I wake up with a yell, pulling away from those hands. They release me instantly.

"Are you okay?"

For a moment, while my head clears, I wonder why Two-Bit's voice sounds different. I know that he's in the house with me because both Soda and Darry are at work. But as my eyes adjust, I discover the person sounds different because it's not Two-Bit.

It's Jay.

My heart drops and I push myself up in bed, backing away from him.

"Relax," he says.

"How did you get in here?" I ask. My heart pounds loudly against my chest and I wonder if he can hear it.

"It ain't hard," he says. "You guys don't exactly lock the door."

I swallow hard. "Get out."

"Ponyboy, I just-"

"_Get out!" _I yell. I bring my hand to my chest as I start to hyperventilate. Jay looks at me worriedly.

"Breathe, kid."

"Shut up," I snap. "Get out of my house. Now."

"Let me help-"

"NOW!" I scream, gasping. He nods and hurries out of my room. I wait a second before I get to my feet and rush to my closet, finding my baseball bat. I hold it over my shoulder, still breathing hard, and sneak into the hallway. I hear the front door close and I cautiously make my way to the living room just in time to see Jay's mustang pull away from the curb.

I lock the door and toss my bat onto the couch. A sob escapes from me and I brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

Things around me start to feel different and I wonder if Jay was even here. If maybe I just dreamed it all. I don't know what's real anymore.

A wave of anger washes over me. Tears of frustration fall down my face as I look for something to grab. Something to break.

The picture on the wall is the closest. I take it and throw it hard at the ground. It shatters.

It's not enough.

Blindly, I start towards the kitchen. On my way, I knock the lamp over and then flip the small table. I get to the kitchen a few seconds later and open the cupboard. With a rage I've never felt before, I start pulling all the mugs off the shelf and throw them, sobbing as I do.

I don't know how long I continue breaking things until I finally sink down onto the floor, breathing hard. Everything around me is a mess. I don't know what I've done.

I hear the doorknob rattling. Two-Bit doesn't have a key and he probably wasn't expecting the door to be locked. I can hear him becoming more frantic. I remember now that he had gone to the store and woke me up to tell me he'd be back soon.

I don't move. I wonder what's gonna happen when he comes in and sees everything is destroyed.

What's wrong with me?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Remember how I told you that you shouldn't always trust a first person narrator? Especially one who can't decipher between reality and hallucinations. *wink wink*<strong>_


	27. Chapter 27

**I. Am. So. Sorry.**

**I didn't mean to keep you guys waiting so long for this, but this was one of those chapters that I went to post a few weeks ago, re-read it, and realized I hated it. Then about four different versions stemmed from it as I tried to re-write and make it acceptable. This is the one I decided was best.**

**Thank you for all the reviews and for being so patient and understanding with me!**

**This story, unfortunately, is going to be wrapping up and ending soon (the way it's supposed to. Don't worry, no one influenced me. This is where it originally started to head towards the end.)**

**Anyway, sorry for leaving you guys with nothing for so long! **

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

**.**

**.**

**.**

I'm not sure how long it takes Two-Bit to get inside, but it doesn't take long for him to spy everything I've broken in the living room. He calls my name and I hear him run back through the hall. He finds me in the kitchen a minute later.

He's frantic.

"Ponyboy, what happened? Are you hurt?"

Numbly, I stare at the wall. My voice sounds muffled when it comes out. "He was here."

"Who?" Two-Bit asks urgently. He cups my face in his hands, making me look at him. "Who, Ponyboy?"

"Jay."

Two-Bit releases me. He's still in a panic. "How did he get in? Did he do this? Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head. "The front door. We don't lock it."

Two-Bit frowns and looks at me closely. "I did lock it, Pone. I locked it when I left."

Confused, I bring my eyes to his. "But…I heard you trying to get in…"

"I couldn't get my key to work," he says slowly.

"I…" I fumble for words.

"Ponyboy?"

"He was here earlier, wasn't he?"

Two-Bit nods. "Yeah, he was here. Steve chased him away."

"He…he wasn't here this time though, was he?"

"I don't know," Two-Bit says cautiously, looking around. "How'd all this stuff break?"

"I broke it."

"Why?"

"I dunno." I bring my hands up and cover my face. "I think I had a daymare."

"A what?" Two-Bit asks.

"Like a nightmare during the day," I say wearily and rub my eyes roughly as tears start to form. "What's wrong with me?"

Two-Bit bites his lip and then shakes his head, speaking softly. "I'm not sure, Pone. Are you hurt?"

"No," I sigh, willing myself not to cry.

"Then let's get you up."

I grab onto his arm and he helps haul me to my feet. There's broken glass all over the kitchen. I groan and look at what I've done.

"I've ruined everything," I moan.

"No, you haven't," Two-Bit says gently. "I don't think you broke as much stuff as you think you did."

"I still broke it," I mutter, blinking back tears. Two-Bit puts a hand on my back and starts to lead me out of the kitchen.

"You should go lay down, Pone. Maybe you need some more sleep."

"No," I say. This time the tears fall. I stop in the hallway and rest a hand against the wall, bowing my head. "Something is wrong with me, Two-Bit."

"Are you sick?" He rests a hand against my forehead. I close my eyes and let out a sound between a laugh and a sob.

"That's not what I mean."

Two-Bit moves his hand to my arm and prods me to follow him. "Just come lay down. I'll call your doctor."

"I don't want my doctor," I say, sniffing and limping along beside him.

"What do you want?"

We get to my room and I sit down on the bed, mulling over the question. I look up at Two-Bit.

XxX

"Soda!" Steve calls. I slide out from under the car I'm working on and wipe a hand across my forehead.

"What?'

"Trade me places. You got a call from Two-Bit. Something about your brother."

"Something bad?" I ask, getting to my feet.

"Well I don't think Two-Bit would call you in the middle of the day to tell you how fantastic Ponyboy is doing."

"Actually, he might," I say, clapping him on the shoulder as I pass. I get inside and pick up the phone.

"Two-Bit?"

"Hey, Sodapop," he says.

"What's up?"

Two-Bit hesitates for a second and then I become concerned. "Two-Bit, what is it?"

"Something happened with Ponyboy…He… well, he had some kind of weird hallucination. He called it a…a daymare."

"A daymare?" I ask. "Like a nightmare during the day?"

"Yeah, but…he didn't handle it really well."

"What happened, Two-Bit? Is he okay?"

"He's okay," Two-Bit says quickly. "He…well, he broke some stuff."

"Broke _what_? Bones? Or stuff in the house?"

"Stuff in the house," Two-Bit laughs. "Well, a few things in the house. I just…he wants you. Do you think you can come home?"

"He wants _me_?" I ask, momentarily taken by surprise. I haven't quite gotten over when Ponyboy was mad at me. I can tell that hurt is still lingering somewhere inside of him.

Two-Bit sighs. "Soda."

"Sorry," I say. "I'll be home in a few."

I hang up the phone and run back to tell Steve I'm clocking out early. He waves a hand my way, tells me he'll let the boss know, and then I hurry home.

XxX

"Where is he?"

"He's in his room with the doctor."

"Is he sick?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to be careful."

"Did you call Darry?"

"Do you think I'm crazy? Of course I didn't."

I snicker. "Probably best."

Two-Bit dips down to pick up something off the floor. I go to ask him what Ponyboy broke, but I hear someone coming down the hall. Ponyboy's doctor steps forward and I shake his hand.

"Hello, Sodapop."

"Hi, Doc. How's Ponyboy doing?"

The doctor looks between me and Two-Bit, his face solemn. "Perhaps we should speak in private."

I frown. My mind is too jumbled to make any argument, to tell him that Two-Bit is family. But Two-Bit nudges me and nods, so I try to clear my head.

"Yeah," I say unsurely. "Uh, let's go to the dining room."

I lead the way there and motion for him to take a seat at the table. He thanks me and sits down, setting his bag on the floor. I take the seat across from him.

He dives right in. "It seems that Ponyboy is showing symptoms of psychosis."

His words take me by surprise. "What?"

"From what I understand, he's experiencing hallucinations and mood swings, right?"

"Well…yeah, but he's not crazy. I know he's not. He's just a little jumbled sometimes."

"Psychosis doesn't mean he's crazy," the doctor says. "Listen, Sodapop. It's no surprise that the human mind is going to react different after a traumatic experience. There's only so much we can handle. Have you ever heard of shell shock?"

I nod. "Like what soldiers have."

"Exactly. This is kind of like what's happening to Ponyboy. He went through something terrible and he's going to have outbursts until he feels normal again."

I rub my eyes wearily. "What do we go?

"Your best option is to either put him on medication or start him in therapy. He's already been demonstrating signs of depression. I think it's time to do something."

"I…I need to talk to Darry."

XxX

"No," I say, shaking my head. "Hell no. Ponyboy is not being put on meds. Where is he?"

"Darry," Sodapop sighs. "He's sleeping, and you saw the broken stuff in the kitchen. Ponyboy is hallucinating. It's not normal."

"I'm fully aware of that, Sodapop," I snap. "But don't forget that you also see the way Ponyboy is on pills. He hates them. He doesn't act like himself and he won't take them if they make him feel weird."

"You just don't want him to take them because you don't want people to think he's crazy."

I growl. "You'd better watch it, kid."

Sodapop eyes me for a long moment before he sighs again. "Darry, we have to do something."

"We'll send him to therapy."

"Can we afford that?"

I run my hands over my face, taking a deep breath. "Probably not, but we have no other choice."

Sodapop's eyes move to something behind me and I turn. Ponyboy is standing at the end of the hall, yawning. The look on his face tells me that we woke him up, but he's eerily calm after what happened earlier.

"Hey," he says, limping forward. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I say, but Sodapop interjects.

"We're just talking about sending you to a therapist instead of putting you on medication."

"God damn it, Sodapop."

Ponyboy looks between the two of us nervously. "What…what're you talking about?"

"Sit down," I say, motioning to the couch. He moves past me slowly. I give Sodapop a glare and sit down on the edge of the coffee table. I can tell Ponyboy is uneasy and I've noticed that standing when he's sitting only makes that feeling worse.

"Your doctor thinks that we need to either put you on medication or send you to therapy."

Ponyboy suddenly looks incredibly small. "Why?"

Sodapop gives me a look. I turn back to Ponyboy. "Because of how you've been acting lately. You know what I'm talking about."

Ponyboy shoves his hands between his knees and looks down, nodding. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't.

"Which one would you rather do?" Sodapop asks.

I groan. "Jesus Christ, Soda."

"I don't want to do either of them," Ponyboy says firmly, but he's still not looking at us.

"You have to do one," I say. "Or you're not gonna get better."

He shakes his head. "I don't care."

"Well you'd better start." I take a deep breath. "I'll give you some time to pick, but you're gonna do one of them whether you like it not."

Ponyboy looks up, his face still. He doesn't say anything else before he gets to his feet and heads back towards his room. We hear the door slam a second later.

I stand up and round on Sodapop. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The snotty attitude returns and he shrugs. "He needed to know."

"Well maybe you could have been a little more subtle," I say. "Or at least you could have given me a chance to talk to Ponyboy's doctor."

"I'm not the one forcing Ponyboy to choose what to do," Sodapop says.

I growl and ball my hands into fists. "You told me something needed to be done, so something is being done."

Sodapop glares at me for a second. "I don't know what's wrong with you today, but I don't like it."

"Well I don't like your attitude today," I say. "You know better than to deal with Ponyboy like that."

It strikes a chord with him and he smashes his lips together, looking away. Neither of us say anything for a moment.

It's out of character for us to act like this, but I know why we are. We're both just tired. Everything with Ponyboy has left us stressed and wrung out. Just like Ponyboy, our emotions are manifesting in strange ways.

And for the first time in a long time, we all go to sleep irritated with each other.

XxX

The next day, Sodapop and I silently make up during breakfast. He gives me a smile as he passes by and everything is fine. We've never been able to stay mad with each other. Ponyboy sleeps through breakfast and I leave him be.

I take the first half of work off and go talk to his doctor. He tells me about the side effects of some of the medications and I make the decision to start Ponyboy into therapy instead of letting him decide. There's more than one reason I don't want Ponyboy on those pills, and right now it's not any of Sodapop's business.

I also go visit the high school and talk to the principle. We figure out what Ponyboy's best option is right now. While Two-Bit has been bringing Ponyboy some of his homework, he's still far behind. The principle, a man who started working after I graduated, tells me that the best thing to do is to get Ponyboy in as soon as we can and then have him do summer school. The principle tells me he'll have all the teachers keep an eye on him.

Sodapop corners me later in the day when I'm home and expresses his concerns about Ponyboy going back to school. He's still worried that Two-Bit and Steve can only watch him so many times during the day and Ponyboy has yet to identify the people who took him- - though Steve is convinced he knows who one of them is. Regardless, Ponyboy will be around the people who hurt him.

I try to sympathize, because it also terrifies me, but I know that we can't keep Ponyboy out of school any longer. We need to get things back to normal and he needs to get caught up. Ponyboy's got a bright future ahead of him. We just need to push him back in the right direction.

So the plans get set. Over dinner, I tell Ponyboy about how he'll be restarting school on Monday and then going to therapy after. He's less than happy about these decisions and makes it perfectly known by sulking excessively and not talking. But the decision stands, and come Monday, we'll start to get things back to normal.

Well, as normal as things can be.


	28. Chapter 28

**Little bit of a filler chapter for you before I start to wrap things up. Thanks for all the incredible reviews!**

**Enjoy.**

**.**

**.**

Monday comes quickly. I take a bath the night before, since Darry still won't let me shower with this cast on, and go to bed early. I'm too nervous to really eat anything. Both Darry and Soda can tell.

I toss and turn in bed all night and when I finally fall asleep, I'm woken what feels like a second later by Darry calling to me.

"Come on, Pone. Time to get up."

I groan and bury my face into my pillow, hoping he'll forget I'm supposed to go back to school today. I'm almost back to sleep when I feel someone leap onto my bed.

Sodapop.

"Wakey, wakey," he says softly, dangerously. His fingers are suddenly on me, digging into my sides. I burst into laughter and roll away from him, tumbling off the side of the bed onto my knees.

"Are you okay?" Sodapop asks through laughs of his own. I glare at him with a smile.

"You're cruel, you know that?"

He laughs harder and jumps off the bed, coming over to offer me a hand. I let him pull me to my feet and then I shove him. He ruffles my hair and follows me out of the room.

When Steve and Two-Bit get here, Darry pulls them aside and talks to them quietly. I know what he's talking about, though. The butterflies in my stomach start to flutter.

"Don't worry, Pone," Sodapop says softly so that only I can hear. He rests a hand on my shoulder. "You're gonna be fine."

I nod, hoping he's right.

XxX

At first, it's not so bad. Two-Bit walks with me to my locker, holding my backpack for me so I can figure out the best way to use my crutches and carry everything. A few people walk by and stare, but I try to ignore them. I don't miss Two-Bit glaring at them.

In my first class, a few of my friends find me and ask how I'm doing. They tell me that they had tried to call when they found out I was safe, but Darry had told them I was sleeping every time they did. I wonder if I really had been sleeping or if Darry was trying to shelter me. He has a habit of doing that.

Because my first class is mostly greasers like me, no one really makes a big deal out of me being there. Everything goes pretty smoothly as I try to get back into the habit of living in the real world.

Steve meets me after and walks with me to the next class. He doesn't say anything, but I can tell he's in a bad mood and I'm not sure why.

Second period is worse. The Soc's in my class whisper to each other as I sit down and slide my crutches under my desk. I can feel people's eyes on me. In my mind, I can hear Sodapop telling me I'll be fine. I try to hold onto that.

But it's hard to focus on anything my teacher is saying because everyone keeps glancing my way. I flip through my notebook and start to write. It passes the period by quickly.

I let everyone leave before I do. My teacher makes sure I'm okay and then I meet Two-Bit, who goes with me to my locker. As I'm shifting through books, someone comes up to us.

"Ponyboy."

I know the voice well enough to know who it is without having to look.

"Get out of here," Two-Bit says sharply, stepping in front of me. Jay sighs.

"I just wanted to talk to him."

"I don't care." Two-Bit pushes him back a step. "Leave."

Jay doesn't fight and he turns away in defeat. I wait until he's gone and close my locker.

"You're like a bodyguard," I say.

Two-Bit puffs his chest out and puts his hands on his hips. "That's my job."

I roll my eyes and shove him lightly. "All right, let's go, Superman."

XxX

Third period is where everything goes to hell.

It's my first class of the day that has kids from different grades in it, and while none of the Socs who kidnapped me are there, some of their friends are.

I make the decision to sit in the back so that I'm not in front of them, but right as class begins, they start whispering to each other, turning back to look at me. I shrink down in my seat and scribble in my notebook, trying to avoid their eyes.

A balled-up piece of paper flies my way and hits me in the head. When I look around, no one is glancing back here, so I unfold it and read the messy writing.

_Next vacation is on me._

I frown and look up again. One of the Socs, a boy named Michael who's in the grade above me, is chuckling. I feel my heart start racing.

"Mr. Riley, is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?" My teacher asks suddenly. Michael falls silent and shakes his head. The teacher spies the crumpled up note in my hand and walks back towards me, motioning for it.

"Give it here," he says. I hand him the paper and watch his face as he reads it. The entire class is looking. He turns back to Michael.

"You think this is funny, Mr. Riley?"

Michael shakes his head adamantly. "No, sir. I was just…"

"Well your next vacation is on _me_," my teacher says. "To the principal's office. Now."

Michael makes an exasperated sound and scoops his backpack off the floor before stalking out of the room. My teacher stays by my desk, addressing the class.

"Get into your assigned partners and start discussing what you'd like to do your next project on."

People gingerly get up from their seats and start talking, moving their way across the room to find their partners. My teacher takes this moment to lean closer to me.

"Are you all right, Ponyboy?" He asks. I nod numbly, looking down at my desk.

"Would you like to be excused for a moment?" I nod and he gives me a sympathetic smile. "Take all the time you need."

I grab my crutches and maneuver my way out of the room, not missing the looks people are giving me. I ignore them and start down the hall.

There are people out and not in their classrooms. I hear them start to whisper and some of their words make it through to me.

"…made up the whole story..."

"…almost died..."

I feel my chest tightening. Michael is still in the hall, talking to someone by a set of lockers. I wonder if he will ever actually make it to the principal's office.

He looks my way as I pass.

"Hey, Ponyboy," he calls after me. "What do you say we go for a walk later? Start your next vacation a little early?"

Blood rushes from my face. He doesn't understand.

"Don't ignore me," Michael calls loudly. "Come on, I know you love the attention! Come over here and I can show you how to break your other leg. People will love that!"

My chest tightens painfully. I push open the door to the bathroom and hurry over to the sink, turning it on and splashing cold water on my face. Words start echoing in my mind.

"_If you keep screaming, I promise you I will snap your other leg in half."_

"_I can show you how to break your other leg. People will love that."_

_"Ever had a drill in your leg, kid?"_

My crutches slip from where I propped them and crash to the floor. The loud bang startles me and I start to breathe hard. Bile rises in my throat.

I shove one of the stall doors open and collapse down to my knees, throwing up. My hands are shaking and tears pour from my eyes. I can't do this. Sodapop was wrong.

Somewhere in the midst of my panic attack, the door to the bathroom opens and someone walks in. They stop when they see me.

"Shit," the person breathes. I recognize the voice. It's Steve. "Two-Bit, he's in here."

I hear hurried footsteps and then Two-Bit is standing at the foot of the stall. I'm acutely aware of how pathetic I look.

"Oh, hell, Pone," Two-Bit says softly. I look up at him through my tears. He seems paralyzed, afraid to move. Steve is gone.

"I wanna go home, Two-Bit."

XxX

"Here, sit down," Two-Bit ushers me to one of the seats. "I'll go check you out. Take some deep breaths or something. You're scaring me."

I set my crutches beside me and sink down onto the plastic chair. I wipe at my face, ashamed that I'm sitting in the office bawling like a baby.

"I need to check Ponyboy out," Two-Bit says, standing at the front counter. Mrs. Anderson gives him a look.

"I'm not allowed to do that, Two-Bit."

Two-Bit sighs. "Mrs. Anderson, you know me. You know that I'm practically family to the Curtis's."

"I'm really not supposed to. It's against-"

"Look!" Two-Bit suddenly yells, slamming his fist down against the top of the counter. Everyone in the office turns his way, surprised at the outburst. Two-Bit is one who is rarely serious or mad, so when he is, people take notice.

"Look at him." Two-Bit motions back to me and I feel myself flush. I look down. Two-Bit continues on in a softer voice. "This is Ponyboy's first day back and he's not handling it well. You know what happened to him. Please…please just let me take him home."

"You can check him out," a new voice says. I look up to see that the principal, Mr. Hash, is now standing next to Mrs. Anderson, looking my way. I wipe at my face again, aware that my ears are turning bright red.

"Thank you," Two-Bit says sincerely.

"It's no problem," Mr. Hash says. "I'll call Darrel and let him know. You get Ponyboy home to rest."

Two-Bit nods.

XxX

I lean my head against the window of the car as we drive home. Two-Bit doesn't say anything, but he glances my way every once and a while. I stopped crying, but now I just feel embarrassed. I couldn't even make it through an entire day of school without having a breakdown.

"Two-Bit," I say suddenly. My voice sounds oddly quiet. "Why was Steve all mad today?"

Two-Bit shakes his head. "Trust me, you don't wanna know."

"Did I do something?"

"Of course not, Pone," Two-Bit says softly, but he doesn't explain anymore. I let it drop.

When we get to the house, I go in and lay down on the couch. I feel numb. I've spent so long forcing myself not to think about what happened to me, but now it's taunting me, dancing on the edge of my consciousness. It's begging me to remember.

"Do…um…" Two-Bit stands awkwardly by the TV for a moment before he reaches over and flips it on. Habit. "Do you want me to have Soda or Darry come home?"

I shake my head. "No point. I'm fine now."

Right as I say it, the phone starts ringing. Two-Bit excuses himself to take it in the other room and I close my eyes, hoping this day was just another nightmare to add to the collection.


	29. Chapter 29

**Thanks for all the reviews everyone!**

**There will probably be one more chapter after this and then I'll end it. It's so sad when things come to end, but I hope you guys have been liking it! **

**Enjoy!**

**.**

**.**

_My arms and legs are stretched out, pulled tight by their bindings. I look up at the ceiling. My mouth is dry and my head aches. Pain shoots through my leg and my breath catches in my throat. Everything seems to tighten. Everything seems to hurt._

"Stop, stop," I beg, coming back to reality and burying my face into my hands. "I don't wanna do this anymore."

"What is it?" Deborah asks. "What're you feeling?"

I shake my head, muttering, "I dunno. I don't."

Deborah waits patiently for me to get a hold of myself. I've never been to a therapist before, but I suspect as far as they go, Deborah is one of the best. She doesn't push or pull and she understands that this is new and uncomfortable for me.

After a few moments, I let out a breath and look up at her. Knowing she won't speak until I do, I break the silence.

"I don't wanna be back there."

"Why?"

I make a face. "What do you mean? Why _would _I want to be back there?"

"Clearly it was a very traumatic experience," she says. "I understand that. I ask you why so you can help identify the emotions that are strung along it. That way we can figure out what we're dealing with. So tell me, if you can, what was the worst thing about being there?"

"Um." I blow a breath out between my lips. "I…I guess being…um, well, tied up."

Deborah nods and writes something down on her clipboard. "What about it exactly?"

I shake my head. "I dunno, everything. Not being able to move. Not being able to defend myself when they hurt me. Not…being able to move."

I shudder and wrap my arms around myself, taking a deep breath.

"Stand up, Ponyboy," Deborah says gently. I look up at her warily.

"Why?"

"We're gonna do a relaxation exercise."

I get to my feet slowly, watching her. She sets her clipboard down and stands with me. "Raise your arms up towards the ceiling."

Cautiously, I do what she says. She does it with me, making me feel better, and continues on. "Reach as far up as you can and wiggle your fingers."

I do so, feeling a little silly. I laugh and she smiles. "Good, now stretch your arms out to the side."

We both do it. "Great, now lower your arms back down to your sides and lift your leg up. The one with the cast."

It's hard, because my leg is heavy with the cast, but I do as she says. She nods encouragingly. "Now I don't think you're supposed to be standing on the broken leg, so I won't make you put pressure on it, but now I'd like you to sit back down and extend your good leg out."

I take a seat and kick my leg out. Deborah sits down and smiles again.

"Excellent. You can stop now."

I bring my leg back down and look at her, waiting for an explanation.

"Now what did you feel?" She asks.

"Um…silly," I say.

She laughs. "Yes, many do. Besides that, when you reached your hands up towards the ceiling, what did you feel?"

I bite my lip and think about it. "Nothing, I guess."

She nods and reaches for her clipboard again, but she doesn't write anything down. "I did that so you can learn to hold onto that feeling. Whenever you feel like you're trapped, just reach out all around you and feel that nothing. Remind yourself that you can move and that you're not restrained in anyway. Does that sound like something that might help you?"

I nod.

"Good," Deborah says. "Now tell me more about Jay."

XxX

"You don't have to do this, Ponyboy," Sodapop says.

"Yeah, I do. I'll be fine, Soda," I say, patting his shoulder. "I can do this."

Soda's face crumples in worry and he pulls me into a hug. I sigh and return the embrace. He's not helping me feel better.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, swallowing hard. I pull back and look at him, frowning.

"Why're you so upset?" I ask gently.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," Soda says.

I smile. "Nothing is gonna happen. It's school, Soda. It's the not the military."

"Shut up, will ya?" He laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. "Promise me you'll call me if something goes wrong, okay? I can be right there to pick you up. Or Two-Bit can bring you home."

I nod, but then something flashes in my mind. "Wait, Soda, do you know why Steve has been in such a bad mood?"

"Um." Sodapop rubs the back of his neck.

"Come on, kid!" Two-Bit calls. "We're gonna be late."

Sodapop scoops my backpack off the floor and pushes it into my hands, turning me around and nudging me to the living room where Two-Bit is waiting.

"You're a cheater," I say. Sodapop smiles with a shrug.

"Call me if anything happens, okay?" I nod.

He looks at Two-Bit. "Watch out for him."

"You got it, chief," Two-Bit says, slinging an arm over my shoulder.

XxX

Two-Bit walks with me to my classes. Steve isn't at school today and I don't bother asking Two-Bit why. I have a feeling he won't tell me. No one really is telling me anything about Steve.

When third period rolls around, Michael is the last one to file into the classroom. He has his face down, but I don't miss the dark bruise around his eye and the one along his jaw line. He doesn't even glance back at me as he takes his seat.

People are whispering, but this time it's not about me.

"That guy beat the crap out of him," one of the Socs is saying. A greaser on the other side of the room is giving a high five to someone.

"Gotta love Randle," he whispers. My jaw drops open.

He didn't.

The class goes by uneventfully. Sitting in the back keeps people from whispering behind me and makes me feel safer. A few people look back at me and say something to each other, but it's nothing like it was before. Michael doesn't look at me at all.

After class, I hurry out to meet Two-Bit.

"Steve's in trouble, isn't he?" I ask.

Two-Bit makes a face as we walk. "What?"

"He beat up that kid- -Michael."

Two-Bit smirks. "So you found out, did you?"

"People were talking about it in class," I say. "Is he in trouble? Is that why he's not here today?"

"He's suspended," Two-Bit says as we come to a halt at my locker. I turn to face him.

"How long?"

"Just a day. Got off pretty easy."

I shake my head and turn back to my locker, opening it. "Why would he do that?"

"Why do you think, Ponyboy?" Two-Bit asks, leaning back against the locker next to mine.

"I don't know."

"Think about it," Two-Bit says. "It'll come to you sooner or later."

XxX

We have gym outside and because I'm not allowed to play in the touch football game, I decide to walk around the track. I'm not supposed to be putting too much pressure on my broken foot yet, but I desperately want to get my leg stronger before the cast comes off.

It's a hot day and the walking wears me out quickly. By the time I get back to the bleachers, I'm out of breath and sweating. I take a seat and watch the game going on. The sun is beating down on me, making me feel nauseas.

A few minutes later, the teacher calls the end of class and tells everyone to head inside. It's the last class of the day and I'm still feeling a little sick, so I tell my teacher I'll be in in a minute. The last thing I need is to be passing out in front of everyone.

I take a little time to let my head clear and then I move down from the bleachers.

"Hey, kid," a voice calls from behind me. The person runs to catch up, stopping when he's beside me.

"I don't wanna talk to you," I say, limping forward.

"I know, I know," Jay says. He walks besides me a few steps before he reaches out with something in his hand. "Do you want some water? You don't look too hot."

"I don't want anything from you," I snap.

He sighs. "It's just water, kid."

The yellow spots in my vision tell me I should probably take his offer. After all, he was the one who gave me food and water when I was being held captive. There's some part of him, somewhere, that does care about my wellbeing.

Coming to a halt, I gingerly take the bottle from him. He's trying to win me over, trying to get me to talk to him. I'm not sure why. It's something that even my therapist isn't sure about.

I chug down half of the water before resurfacing for air. I notice Jay is watching me with an odd look on his face.

Suddenly my vision begins to tilt and my head becomes fuzzy. I look down at the water bottle and up to Jay. It clicks in my head.

"You…drugged me?" I say drowsily, sounding hurt.

"I know," he says softly. "I'm sorry."

The bottle falls from my hands as my legs give way. Jay leaps forward and catches me, lowering me to the ground. He murmurs something I can't understand and it's the last thing I remember.


	30. Chapter 30

**Welp, this is it. The end.**

**I can honestly tell you guys I'm thinking about making a sequel to this, but I haven't decided yet.**

**I want to thank you all for the reviews and encouragement. I'm so glad you guys stuck with me through this journey.**

**So for the (possibly) last time in this story,**

**Enjoy :)**

**.**

**.**

I jolt awake and sit up quickly. My head is groggy and it takes a few minutes for everything around me to clear. When it does, I discover that I'm on a brown couch in an unfamiliar place. It looks like a living room, but I'm not sure whose.

I rub my eyes and look around. My head is too cloudy to let me understand this. I know I should be scared, or at least concerned, but all I can think about is that Jay drugged me. I feel offended and I'm not sure why.

"Oh, you're finally awake," a voice says. I look over as Jay enters the room. He's carrying a glass of water.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"I needed to talk to you." He offers me the drink, but I refuse it.

"So you drugged me and kidnapped me?"

Jay rolls his eyes and motions to the front door, setting the glass down on the coffee table. "I didn't kidnap you. You can leave whenever you want."

I eye him suspiciously. "Then…why did you drug me?"

"Because you wouldn't talk to me otherwise. I just needed to get you alone and this was the best way."

"I doubt that," I mutter.

"Look, I'm sorry," he says slowly. "But I needed to do something and no one was."

"I don't have to talk to you. I don't have to be here."

Jay nods. "You can leave whenever. I just hoped you would stay long enough to hear me out."

"Hear you out?" I ask with astonishment. "What, are you gonna explain why you and your friends kidnapped me? Why you kept me tied up in a warehouse? Why you beat me and tortured me and made my life a living hell? I'd just love to hear you explain that to me."

Jay bows his head. Feeling frustrated, I push myself up from the couch and limp towards the door.

"I didn't mean to get involved," Jay says quietly. I stop and look back at him.

"What?"

"I wasn't there, you know." He looks up at me. "I wasn't there when they grabbed you and took you in there."

I rack through the foggy memories and try to remember the guys who started chasing me. Jay's right- he wasn't there.

"I heard Rob talking about it, so I went to the warehouse to see if it was true," he continues. "And then I saw you…you were sleeping-or unconscious, I don't really know, but you were black and blue and you just looked miserable."

Jay stands up and approaches me carefully. "When I heard you screaming that night, when they were…well, you know…I just…I thought they were killing you. And I knew things had gone too far. They had gone too far the moment they took you into that warehouse and tied you there."

I don't say anything. Jay runs his hand back through his hair and lets out a bitter laugh.

"I shouldn't have let things keep going. I tried to figure a way to get you out. That's why I told her. I knew that she could protect you somehow."

"Told who?" I ask. I remember him talking about this girl before, but he never told me who she was.

He smiles and shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. I just should have done something sooner."

"Yeah, well you didn't," I say, irritated again. "And you weren't exactly an angel all the time."

"I know," he says miserably. "I was trying to help you and you wouldn't listen and I just got frustrated. I didn't want to become a part of that, but I couldn't just let you die."

"Why?" I ask. "Why couldn't you? What importance does a poor, pathetic greaser have to a Soc like you?"

"I'm not a Soc, Ponyboy," he says quietly. "I'm just a guy trying to make it out of this town. Trying to do something with my life. And I lost my little brother a long time ago. I couldn't do that to your family. I couldn't do that to _you_. You may be a greaser, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve a chance to get out of here, especially with everything that's happened to you."

He stops to take a breath and looks away, speaking quietly. "I couldn't save him, but I could save you. No one deserves to go like that."

I slowly approach him. I can see in his face that he thinks I'm going to hit him, or yell at him, or maybe kick him in the shin and run, but I sink down into the couch instead.

"I…I don't believe you," I say. But I do. I believe every word he said.

"You don't have to. I just wanted to tell you."

"Why?" I ask, looking up at him.

"So you know why I did what I did. So you know that we're not all bad. That this world isn't full of people who are always going to hurt you." He looks like he knows he sounds lame saying it, but he continues. "There are good people and bad people, and us Socs…well, we ain't all bad. You know that."

I nod. "I know."

"You have so much good in your life, Ponyboy," he says. "Even though there are lots of bad things, the good things are always there."

I give him a long look. "You sound like Mary Poppins."

"Shut up," he laughs.

I sigh and rub my eyes again.

"How long was I out?" I ask. Jay looks at the clock.

"About three hours."

I groan and bury my face into my hands. "My brothers are gonna kill me."

XxX

Jay drives me home. I wonder if I should duck so people can't see me, but I'm too exhausted to care. He tells me that whatever he drugged me with isn't harmful, but it would probably take a while for the full effects to wear off.

We pull up at the curb and he lets the engine idle. I shoot a weary glance at my house, wondering what madness is going to great me next.

Without a word, I open the door and look over at him.

"I'd help you out," he says, "But I really don't feel like getting the crap beat out of me by your oldest brother."

I laugh. "Yeah, I get it."

I manage to pull myself out of the car the same time someone inside notices me. I know I only have a few seconds.

"You'd better get out of here," I tell Jay as he slides my crutches out of the car.

He nods. I close the door and make to leave, but he rolls down the window, calling my attention. Darry and Sodapop are running out the door.

"I'm gonna turn them in," Jay says. "To the police. I'm gonna turn myself in."

I frown. "Wait, I-"

"See you later, kid. Stay safe."

He peels out before my brothers can make it to him.

"Ponyboy!" Sodapop says in relief, hugging me close. I stare after the car. "Where were you?"

"What was _he_ doing here?" Darry asks angrily. "Did he hurt you? And where the hell were you, Ponyboy?"

"He just gave me a ride," I say weakly. I shove the crutches under my arms and start towards the house. I don't have the energy or emotional power to deal with Darry being mad.

"From where?" Darry asks. "Why didn't you call anyone? Do you know how worried we've been?"

"I'm sorry," I say. Sodapop helps me maneuver up the front steps.

"Are you okay?" He asks me gently.

"I don't feel good," I mutter. "I need to go lay down."

"You need to tell me where you were," Darry says, holding open the door for me.

"It doesn't matter," I say as we step inside.

"God damn it, Ponyboy!" Darry booms. I freeze. Sodapop lets the door slam closed, his body going tense. He doesn't move.

"You can't do this," Darry continues on angrily. "You can't do this to Soda and I. Do you know how worried we were? We thought…I thought…God damn it."

Sodapop's face softens and he looks at Darry sadly. "Dar…"

Darry shakes his head and turns away from us, walking over to look at one of the pictures on the wall. Sodapop looks my way. His eyes are sad.

I get it. Darry and Sodapop spent three weeks wondering if I was alive or dead. I never imagined what that would have been like. Darry always carries such a tough demeanor, but there is one thing that terrifies him beyond all believe, and that's losing me or Sodapop. He thought he lost me once when I ran away, then he thought he lost me again when I was kidnapped. And now here I was, disappearing without telling him what was going on-though it wasn't entirely my fault. I didn't plan for Jay to drug me.

I lean my crutches against the wall and limp over to Darry carefully.

"Darry…" I start, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He looks down, and with a sudden horrified jolt, I realize he's crying. My heart breaks.

"Darry, I'm so sorry," I say, bursting into tears. He turns and wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly to his chest.

He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't have to.

Two-Bit arrives sometime when Darry and I are still hugging and when we finally pull apart, I see that Sodapop has flung an arm around his shoulder. I give him an apologetic look and wipe at my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say, sniffing. "To all of you."

"Just please," Two-Bit says. "Please don't ever do that again."

I nod. "I won't. I promise."

XxX

Things calm down again, though Darry pesters me about where I was, and we go back to a normal evening.

I don't tell anyone what Jay did. It was something so crazy that I'm not even sure I believe it. Or maybe I just don't want to.

As promised, the drug affects me for a while longer. It makes my stomach churn and I lay on the couch and watch TV with Two-Bit while Soda and Darry grill outside.

"Hey, Two-Bit?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that guy- -Jay Madison?" I ask.

"Sure."

"Did he have a brother?"

Two-Bit looks over at me and scans my face for a moment. "Yeah."

"What happened to him?"

For some reason, Two-Bit looks like he doesn't want to be talking about this. He fidgets for a moment before he answers. "He died."

"How?"

"He was killed."

"When?"

"About three years ago," Two-Bit says.

"How come I never heard about it?"

He gives me another look. "You did. He was that kid that died in the bar fight on 16th. Right around Christmas."

I frown. "But then why would Jay-" I cut myself off quickly and sit up. "Was Jay there? During the fight?"

Two-Bit nods. "Yeah. They were both outnumbered, though. They weren't even old enough to be in the bar. Everyone was bigger than them."

"I-"

"Yo, Two-Bit," someone says. We look over and see Steve in the doorway. "Darry wants you guys to come outside and help grill."

Two-Bit stands up and stretches. He walks past Steve, punching him in the shoulder, and heads out the door.

"Coming?" Steve asks me. It's the first time I've seen him since he was suspended. He has a bruise on his cheek, but he looks significantly less annoyed than he did before.

"Yeah," I say. "Just a second."

He shrugs and opens the door again. Suddenly Two-Bit's voice echoes in my head.

"_Think about it. It'll come to you sooner or later."_

It comes to me now.

Michael had been trash talking me. Steve beat him up. Steve beat him up…for me. That's why he had been so angry. He could hear everyone talking about me. He could always hear everyone talking about me. He had beaten people up to try and find me.

But why?

Needing justification, I stop him before he can leave.

"Steve."

"What?" He asks, looking back at me.

"You…Did…"

He makes an impatient noise. "What?"

"You beat him up," I say quietly. "You beat up a lot of people…when you thought they knew where I was. When they were making fun of me."

"What are you talking about?" He asks.

I shake my head. "You know what I'm talking about."

He steps away from the door and moves closer to me. "So who told you? Two-Bit?"

"No one told me," I say. "When I was there…in the warehouse-" I don't miss the way he flinches. "-they talked about you. You and Two-Bit. They said you guys had beaten up someone cause you were looking for me."

I take a deep breath. "You beat up Michael, too. That wasn't a coincidence, was it?"

For a moment, Steve doesn't move. His face is still, but there's a smile pulling on the corner of his lips. It's the only answer I need.

Steve _does _care about me.

"Thank you," I say softly, getting to my feet. "For everything."

"Kid, if you tell anyone what I'm about to do, I'll finish what those Socs started."

I frown and go to question him, but he moves quickly. Before I realize it, he has me pulled into a hug. It takes a second for the shock to wear off and I pat his back awkwardly.

"I'm glad you're not dead," he says quietly. It sends a chill to my bones. I sincerely hug him back, but only for a moment before he breaks the contact.

"Did you…did you just show affection?" I ask with mock astonishment.

"Fuck you," he says, shoving me lightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

But out of all the things I question of being real or not, this one isn't one of them. It's the oddest thing that's happened so far, but it's also the most real. Steve has always been the most real.

I wish you were here to see it. I know you wouldn't believe it. Steve being affectionate is something I never thought I'd see.

You know, Darry still wonders who I'm writing to in this journal. Maybe one day I'll show it to him and Sodapop. Let them hear what really happened in that warehouse. I know they both want to know, it's just hard to talk about. It was hard enough to go back and remember my thoughts from in there and write them down for you.

In a way, I'm kind of glad you weren't here to have to deal with me being gone. I know it would have been hard for you. It's hard for me.

I think it'll always be hard, but I know that one day it'll get better. I think you've taught me that the best.

I've realized how much everyone cares for me, especially Steve-even though he might not want to admit it. I guess I just never thought about how much it means to have people who care. I regret ever thinking that they forgot about me. Looking back now, I know they'd never forget. Even if I had died in that warehouse.

I know that things will never be the same, but with a family like this behind me, I think, just maybe, I'll learn to be okay again. Because I know they love me, and that's all that matters. Because I know they'll always stand by me. Because I know they'll always risk everything to make sure I'm safe. And I know they'll always be there.

I might have a long way to go, but it's okay, because it's only dawn.

And somehow, after everything, I'm still gold.


End file.
